
Book ,(N 



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PUBLICATIONS OF J. H. BUTLER & CO. 

BINGHAM'S SERIES OF APPROVED TEXT-BOOKS. 



TENITEY'S GEOLOG-IT- 

By SANBORN TENNEY, A.M. 

A Uew Edition of this "Work, -with over 250 Engravings. 
What is said of it by experienced teachers: — "I regard Tenney's Geology as a Modkl 
school-book ;'* — " Presents the leading facts of the science in a clear and natural 
manner, and contains all that is required in an ordinary course of instruction." 



PROF. COPPEE'S SERIES OF APPROVED TEXT-BOOKS. 

By HENEY COPPEE, LL.D., President Lehigh University. 

COPPEE'S ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. 

COPPEE'S ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. 

COPPEE'S ACADEMIC SPEAKER. 



This Series Comprises : 
BINGHAM'S ENGLISH GRAMMAR. BINGHAM'S LATIN GRAMMAR. 
BINGHAM'S LATIN EXERCISES. BINGHAM'S LATIN READER. 
BINGHAM'S C/ESAR. 
BINGHAM'S LATIN PROSE COMPOSITION. (In press.) 
The points of excellence, rendered specially prominent by the actual test of the 
school-room, and embodied in the recommendations of many of the first educators of the 
country, may be briefly noted. 

BINGHAM'S ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 

"The subject is discussed in the most philosophical manner. - ' — "The conformity of the 
rules to the Latiu Grammar is a step in the right direction. " 

BINGHAM'S LATIN GRAMMAR. 

"Comprehensiveness of details." — "Copious exercises in immediate connection with 
every theoretical principle." — " Correctness, clearness and conciseness of its rules of 
gender." — "The careful marking of the quantity of the vowels." — " Perfectly simple, 
progressive and rigorously exact." — "Its admirable method of treating the gender 
of the third declension." — "Methodical, clear and direct." — "It is a most admirably 
arranged Drill-book." — "Sufficiently advanced for the college student." — "Suffi- 
cieutly elementary for the begiuuer." 

BINGHAM'S LATIN READER. 

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BINGHAM'S CJESAR. 

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Prof. Coppee's status in educational matters is ample guarantee of the worth of his 
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higher Seminaries throughout the country. 



sit 



% Ifoto %mritn Sbtxin. 



OXFOBD'S 



Senior Speaker 



J. H. BUTLER 6- CO. 



Oxford's Junior Speaker. 



A Collection of Exercises in Declamation, Eecitation and Kepresenta- 
tion ; comprising many Dialogues never before published, and 
more than 200 Pieces adapted to the Young of both Sexes. By 
Wm. Oxford, author of "The Senior Speaker," etc. With 55 
Illustrations. 

Of this work "The New York Educational Monthly" says: "There is a fresh- 
ness in the pieces quite delightful." 

The " Boston Transcript " says ": " It is the best Speaker for youth under fifteen that 
we have seen. The original copyright matter is its strong point. The new dialogues are 
excellent. In most of our Speakers there is an unconscionable amount of padding — that 
is, of pieces thrown in to fill up. Here every piece is apt and available." 

The "New York Times " says : "Here we have a book of really superior merit, full 
of pieces of the right length and spirit, and charmingly illustrated." 

The " New York Booksellers' Circular " says : " Beautifully got up and liberally 
illustrated; it contains 216 pages, large Ylmo, and is retailed for '.-75 cents." 



IN PEESS. 
(TO complete the series.) 

OXFORD'S BOOK OF DIALOGUES. 



THE NEW AMERICAN SERIES. 



OXFORDS 

Senior Speaker 



A COLLECTION OF 



EXERCISES IN DECLAMATION, RECITATION 
AND REPRESENTATION. 



jfox aibancefc (&la&$z$. 



BY 

WILLIAM QXFOKD, 

AUTHOR OF "THE JUNIOR SPEAKER," ETC. 



WITH NINETY PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 




% 



PHILADELPHIA: . 

J. H. BUTLER & COMPANY. 

) ^73 



o'- 



< 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 

J. H. BUTLER & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Westcott & Thomson, Sherman & Co. 

Stereotypers, Philada Printers, Philada. 



to v^ 




PREFACE. 



In a book bearing the title of " Speaker " the student 
of elocution looks for a class of pieces somewhat different 
from the majority of those he finds in a " Reader." The 
distinction, however, does not seem to be very carefully 
observed by compilers. Consequently, a good deal of un- 
available matter is found in books promising by their title 
such pieces as may be suitable for declamation or recitation 
from memory. These pieces are comparatively rare in lit- 
erature, and so, in order to make a bulky volume, much 
matter is generally admitted that is not wanted in a 
" Speaker," however appropriate in a " Reader." 

In the present collection the endeavor has been to have 
all the pieces of such a character that this objection may 
not apply, and that the book may justify its title. The 
various exercises, declamatory, hortatory, pathetic, humor- 
ous, descriptive, and dramatic, are unusually numerous, and 
have been carefully selected and tested with a view to their 
elocutionary fitness and dramatic unity of purpose. Sev- 

1* 5 



6 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

eral of these are protected by copyright, and are indicated 
in the table of Contents by an asterisk, while many others 
are now for the first time presented in an elocutionary col- 
lection. Should some old favorites be missed, they may 
perhaps be found in " Oxford's Junior Speaker," the smaller 
illustrated book of the series. 

To quicken and enlarge the interest of the student, like- 
nesses of the most celebrated orators are freely introduced 
in this higher book ; nor are the poets and moralists, from 
whom contributions have been culled, forgotten. This 
feature, now for the first time appearing in a " Speaker," 
will, it is believed, be readily appreciated. To form some 
idea of the face and figure of a Chatham, a Mirabeau, a 
Burke, a Webster, a Calhoun, must enhance in no slight 
degree the satisfaction with which extracts from their 
speeches are studied and declaimed. As will be seen from 
the " List of Illustrations," page 15, pains have been takeu 
to have the likenesses authentic. The larger number oi 
them are here for the first time published on wood. 

w. o. 




*£* The pieces marked loith an asterisk are protected by copyright. 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 16 

Elocution, Articulation, Emphasis, Gesture, Delivery of Dialogues, 

Exercises in Inflection 16-24 



I.— PIECES IN PEOSE. 

MORAL, DESCRIPTIVE, AND OCCASIONAL. 

The Enterprise of Columbus (Illustrated) Edward Everett. 25 

The Atlantic Telegraph Anon. 27 

The Dignity of Labor Newman Hall. 30 

Compulsory Education Thomas K. Beecher. 34 

Napoleon (Illustrated) '. Herbert Spencer. 36 

Hard Workers G. H. Lewes. 41 

Of Revenge (Illustrated) Lord Bacon. 42 

Man even now a Spirit Thomas Carlyle. 47 

Absolutism and Republicanism James Hadley. 70 

Ancient and Modern Oratory James Hadley. 75 

California's Prospects and Duties C. A. Farley. S2 

The Good Goddess of Poverty Geo. Sand (Madame Dudevant). 97 

Sanitary Laws... Horace Mann. 99 

The Influence of Inventors Edwin P. Whipple. 101 



In Defense of the French Revolution. 
A Plea for Brevity 



,W. J. Fox. 116 
Anon. 122 



8 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

PAGE 

True and False Science Parke Godwin. 156 

Future Growth of the Soul {Illustrated) Joseph Addison. 159 

Against Inordinate Speculation George Berkeley. 160 

Condemnation of Socrates {Illustrated) Anon. 171 

The Relief of Lucknow {Illustrated) Anon. 183 

False Coloring Lent to War {Illustrated) Thomas Chalmers. 209 

Dangers of our Prosperity Timothy Walker. 211 

A Prisoner's Meditations {Illustrated) Silvio Pellico. 225 

Capture of Ticonderoga {Illustrated) Ethan Allen. 229 

Imprisonment of Bonnivard {Illustrated) A. Dumas. 237 

On Mechanics' Institutes {Illustrated) Charles Dickens. 250 

Paul at Athens {Illustrated) John A. James. 257 

The Love of Life {Illustrated) Oliver Goldsmith. 283 

--Ancient Orators Compared {Illustrated) Fenelon. 347 

The Plymouth Settlers Edward Everett. 351 

-Religion of Revolutionary Men {Illustrated)... A lphonse de Lamartine. 359 

Labor and Genius Rev. Sydney Smith. 367 

Thoughts in a Great Library {Illustrated) Bishop Hall. 396 

Justice Thomas Carlyle. 402 

Honor to Labor {Illustrated) Thomas Carlyle. 404 

Our Common Schools {Illustrated) Edward Everett. 409 

POLITICAL AND SENATORIAL. 

•'•Regulus to the Roman Senate {Illustrated) Epes Sargent. 29 

Brutus over the Dead Lucretia 39 

Chatham's Last Speech {Illustrated) 49 

*The Privileged Classes {Illustrated) Mirabeau. 55 

Public Opinion and the Sword {Illustrated) T. B. Macaulay, Lord. 59 

National Armaments Richard Cobden. 70 

On the Price of Liberty Wendell Phillips. 85 

A Democracy hateful to Philip {Illustrated) Demosthenes. 86 

*Viriatbus to the Lusitanians Epes Sargent. 89 

No Alliance with Crowned Heads Stephen A. Douglas. 92 

On English Interference Richard Cobden. 103 

Catiline Expelled {Illustrated) Cicero. 106 

A Divided Republic Joseph Holt. 107 

Against Bribery Demosthenes. 109 

An Appeal to Arms {Illustrated) Patrick Henry. 112 

The United States and the States {Illustrated) Alex. Hamilton. 124 

Magnanimity in Politics {Illustrated) Edmund Burke. 135 

Irish Aliens and British Victories R. L. Sheil. 149 

Impeachment of Warren Hastings {Illustrated) , Edmund Burke. 153 

Invective against. Mr. Corry Henry Grattan. 172 

On the Irish Disturbance Bill Daniel O'Connell. 176 

On Reconciliation with America Lord Chatham. 178 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Repeal Claimed as a Right Lord Chatham. 181 

*Caius Gracchus to the Romans Epes Sargent. 186 

The South during the Revolution R. Y. Hayne. 192 

False Notions of Vigor Rev. Sydney Smith. 195 

On the Federal Constitution {Illustrated) Benj. Franklin. 198 

Against Mr. Pitt Sir Robert Walpole. 204 

Reply to Sir Robert Walpole Mr. Pitt (afterward Lord Chatham). 206 

The Noblest Public Virtue Henry Clay. 215 

Washington's Birthday {Illustrated) Daniel Webster. 218 

The Second War with England T. C.Brown. 226 

Democracy adverse to Socialism Alexis de Tocqueville. 238 

In Favor of American Independence Samuel Adams. 247 

Reform Irresistible T. B. Macaulay. 249 

Lovejoy's Last Speech E. P. Lovejoy. 256 

Last Speech of Madame Roland {Illustrated) 2G0 

Politics and Metaphysics {Illustrated) J. C. Calhoun. 267 

Results of the American War {Illustrated) C. J. Fox. 272 

Marie Antoinette {Illustrated) : Edmund Burke. 276 

Declaration of Irish Rights Henry Grattan. 281 

Robespierre's Last Speech 290 

Against Submission to British Rule {Illustrated) John Jay. 292 

Victory or Ruin Henry Winter Davis. 293 

On English Slavery Lord Brougham. 297 

The Act of Habeas Corpus {Illustrated) J. P. Curran. 298 

Taxes the Price of Glory Rev. Sydney Smith. 303 

The American War Denounced William Pitt. 305 

On Administrative Reform Charles Dickens. 307 

On Burgoyne's Surrender {Illustrated) Lord Chatham. 309 

A Republic or a Monarchy {Illustrated) Victor Hugo. 312 

Reply to Mr. Flood {Illustrated) Henry Grattan. 314 

Inaugural Address {Illustrated) Thomas Jefferson. 316 

The Nature of Justice {Illustrated) R. B. Sheridan. 319 

An Extended Republic {Illustrated) James Madison. 323 

The South during the War of 1812 {Illustrated) R. Y. Hayne. 325 

War Consequent on Dissolution {Illustrated) Henry Clay. 328 

The Great Republic {Illustrated) Oliver Wendell Holmes. 331 

Against Mark Antony {Illustrated) Cicero. 333 

Against Whipping in the Navy R. F. Stockton. 338 

On the Reform Bill Lord Brougham. 352 

On the Greek Question John Randolph. 357 

The Contest in America John Stuart Mill. 359 

Peace our Policy John C. Calhoun. 364 

The British Slave Trade {Illustrated) William Pitt. 375 

The Constitution a Permanency Daniel Webster. 378 

The Spirit of Intolerance Rev. Sydney Smith. 383 

On Competitive Examinations Lord Palmerston. 393 



10 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

PAGE 

The Future of America Daniel Webster. 399 

Liberty of the Press Victor Hugo. 400 

Unity of our Country Caleb Cushing. 407 

The Vocation of the Schoolmaster Lord Brougham. 416 

On being called an Aristocrat Casimir Perier. 418 

HUMOROUS AND COMIC. 

The Dinner at Fayal Mark Twain. 43 

Puffing in Literature T. B. Macaulay. 77 

Trial of Roaring Ralph Robert Bird. 78 

Mr. Puff's Account of Himself. R. B. Sheridan. 81 

Fuss at Fires 191 

Speech of Sergeant Buzfuz Charles Dickens. 285 

A Plea for Dunces (Illustrated) William M. Thackeray. 390 

II.— PIECES IN VERSE. 

LYRICAL, DESCRIPTIVE, COMMEMORATIVE, ETC. 

A True Hero Mrs. Mulock Craik. 28 

Killed at the Ford H. W. Longfellow. 37 

The Bridal of Galtrim Samuel Lover. 41 

Laissez Aller Franklin Lushington. 58 

Italy Wm. Cullen Bryant. 67 

The Raven (Illustrated) Edgar A. Poe. 72 

To My Horse (Illustrated) Lord Lytton (Bulwer). 80 

Lord Ullin's Daughter Thomas Campbell. 83 

Lift up Thine Eyes Jas. Montgomery. 92 

Io Triumphe Elbridge J. Cutter. 96 

Tell's Birthplace (Illustrated) S. T. Coleridge (after Stolberg). 100 

A Cry to Arms Henry Timrod. 105 

Hear Both Sides Anon. 108 

To-Morrow (Illustrated) Nathaniel Cotton. 110 

Abram and Zimri Clarence Cook. 114 

On Parting with My Books Wm. Roscoe. 118 

Vanity of Human Wishes (Illustrated) Samuel Johnson. 119 

How Sleep the Brave Wm. Collins. 123 

Who's Ready? Edna Dean Proctor. 135 

God Rules Alexander Pope. 143 

Bannockburn (Illustrated) Robert Burns. 144 

Nora's Vow Sir Walter Scott. 152 

The Curse of Tyranny Peter Bayne. 155 

To a Winter Wind Mrs. Mulock Craik. 158 

*Death of General Woodhull Epes Sargent. 162 

Lyrics, by Alfred Tennyson (Illustrated) 167 

Rome (Illustrated) Lord Byron. 175 



CONTENTS. 11 



PAGE 

Now {Illustrated) Charles Mackay. 189 

The Arsenal at Springfield (Illustrated) H. W. Longfellow. 194 

Nothing to Wear Wh. A. Butler. 199 

The Bells Edgar A. Poe. 201 

The Grandmother's Apology (Illustrated) Alfred Tennyson. 203 

To-Day and To-Morrow Gerald Massey. 210 

Destruction of the Philistines (Illustrated) ..John Milton. 213 

The Dying Trumpeter Julius Mosen. 224 

The Battle of Fontenoy B. Dowling. 229 

Mary Queen of Scots 234 

Battle Hymn and Farewell to Life (Illustrated) T. Korner. 245 

The Power of Short Words J. A. Alexander. 252 

Lochinvar (Illustrated) Sir Walter Scott. 254 

The Old Grenadier's Story G. W. Thornbury. 258 

The Vagabonds J. T. Trowbridge. 269 

How they Brought the Good News Robert Browning. 274 

The Battle (Illustrated). J. C. Frederic von Schiller. 279 

Count Candespina's Standard G. H. Boker. 284 

Lines from Gray's Elegy (Illustrated) Thomas Gray. 288 

The Village Preacher (Illustrated) Oliver Goldsmith. 301 

Invocation Felicia Hemans. 304 

The Soul of Eloquence Goethe, translated by John Anster. 311 

The Bells of Shandon Francis Mahony (Father Prout). 318 

Rocks of My Country Felicia Hemans. 324 

Wisdom and Wealth Khemnitzer, translated by John Bowring. 327 

The Antiquity of Freedom Wm. Cullen Bryant. 329 

The Pibroch Sir Walter Scott. 335 

Ode on Intimations of Immortality (Illustrated) Wm. Wordsworth. 340 

Order of Nature (Illustrated) Alexander Pope. 349 

*The Helmsman of Lake Erie (Illustrated) Epes Sargent. 354 

The Seventh Plague of Egypt Rev. George Croly. 361 

The Bridge of Sighs (Illustrated) ,. Thomas Hood. 369 

Carcassonne Gustave Nadaud, translated by John R. Thompson. 376 

Paul Revere's Ride (Illustrated) Henry W. Longfellow. 380 

The King of Thule (Illustrated) Goethe. 385 

Lamentation for Celin....J. G. Lockhart (from his " Spanish Ballads"). 392 

The German Rhine Becker. 395 

Lament of the Erring One William Kennedy. 397 

The Glove and the Lions Leigh Hunt. 408 

Faith Anonymous. 411 

Fatherland Song (Illustrated) E. M. Arndt. 415 

Rank and Wealth Robert Burns. 417 

Patria Victrix James Russell Lowell. 419 

Coronach Sir Walter Scott. 420 

Caldwell of Springfield (Illustrated) Bret Harte. 421 

The Gladiator (Illustrated) Lord Byron. 426 



12 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

PAGE 

The Quality of Mercy Wm. Shakspeare. 427 

The Swiss at Frastenz John Osborn Sargent. 428 

Othello's Farewell Wm. Shakspeare. 429 

The End of the Play Wm. M. Thackeray. 430 

HUMOROUS AND COMIC. 

A Chinese Story ...C. P. Cranch. 34 

Platonic Paradoxes Anon. 45 

The King of Brentford's Testament W. M. Thackeray. 51 

The Coming Bard Oliver Wendell Holmes. 88 

*A Lesson for Ci-itics Epes Sargent. 147 

City Men in the Country Oliver Wendell Holmes. 179 

Little Billee Wm. M. Thackeray. 185 

Plain Language from Truthful James Bret Harte. 196 

Bill and Joe Oliver Wendell Holmes. 207 

The Modern Puffing System Thomas Moore. 218 

Lochinvar {Illustrated) Sir Walter Scott. 254 

Wisdom and Wealth Khemnitzer. 327 

Out, John ! Thomas Haynes Bayly. 401 

III.— DIALOGUES AND DRAMATIC PIECES. 

^Impressment of an American Seaman .Epes Sargent. 61 

Mr. Puff's Account of Himself. R. B. Sheridan. 77 

William Tell at Altorf {Illustrated) Jas. Sheridan Knowles. 93 

*Pride Shall Have a Fall Epes Sargent. 124 

Scene from Macbeth {Illustrated) Wm. Shakspeare. 131 

*The Fatal Brawl Epes Sargent. 137 

Nothing In It Charles Mathews. 145 

The Curse of Tyranny Peter Bayne. 155 

The Weathercock J. T. Allingham. 163 

*The Rolling Stone Epes Sargent. 220 

Henry V. to His Troops Wm. Shakspeare. 231 

Moses at the Fair J. S. Coyne. 234 

Sir Kenelm Chillingly Lord Lytton. 242 

Hotspur Reading the Letter Wm. Shakspeare. 253 

*The Cloud and the Sunbeam Epes Sargent. 261 

William Penn under Arrest 277 

Regrets of Drunkenness {Illustrated) Wm. Shakspeare. 295 

Sir Lucius and Bob Acres R. B. Sheridan. 320 

Hotspur and Glendower Wm. Shakspeare. 336 

Catiline to the Gallic Conspirators {Illustrated) Rev. George Croly. 366 

Still Waters Run Deep {Illustrated) Tom Taylor. 370 

*The Unforgotten Foe Epes Sargent. 386 

The Sensitive Author R. B. Sheridan. 412 

Independent Voters Charles Dickens. 423 



Alphabetical List of Authors. 



Adams, Samuel 247 

Addison, Joseph 159 

Alexander, J. A 252 

Allen, Ethan 229 

Allingham, J. T 163 

Anonymous 27, 45, 108, 122, 171, 

183, 191, 234, 411 

Anstek, John 311 

Arndt, E. M 415 

Bacon, Lord 42 

Bayly, Thomas Haynes 402 

Bayne, Peter 155 

Beecher, T. K 34 

Berkeley, George. 160 

Bird, Robert Montgomery 78 

Boker, George Henry 284 

Bowring, Sir John 327 

Brougham, H., Lord... .352, 297> 416 

Brown, T. C 226 

Browning, Robert 274 

Brutus, Lucius Junius 39 

Bryant, William Cullen....67, 329 
Bulwer, E. L. (see Lytton). 

Burke, Edmund 135, 153, 276 

Burns, Robert 144, 417 

Butler, AYilliam A 199 

Byron, Geo. Gordon, Lord..174, 426 

Calhoun, John Caldwell. ..267, 364 

Campbell, Thomas 83 

Carlyle, Thomas 47,402, 404 

Chalmers, Thomas 209 

Chatham,Lord 49, 178, 181, 309 

Cicero, Marcus Tullius 106, 333 

Clay, Henry 215, 328 

Cobden, Richard 69, 103 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 100 ! 

Collins, William 123 I 



PAGE 

Cook, Clarence 114 

Cotton, Nathaniel 110 

Coyne, J. S 231 

Craik, Mrs. Mulock 28, 158 

Cranch, Christopher P 32 

Croly, Rev. George 361, 366 

Curran, John Philpot 298 

Cushing, Caleb 407 

Cutter, Elbridge J 96 

Davis, Henry Winter 293 

Demosthenes 86, 109 

De Tocqueville, Alexis 238 

Dickens, Charles..250, 285, 307, 423 

Douglas, Stephen Arnold 91 

Dowling, Bartholomew 228 

Dudevant. Mme. (see Geo. Sand). 
Dumas, Alexander 237 

Everett, Edward 25, 351, 409 

Farley, C. A 82 

Fenelon, Francis 347 

Fox, Charles James 2f2 

Fox, W. J 116 

Franklin, Benjamin 198 

Godwin, Parke 156 

Goethe, J. W. von 311, 385 

Goldsmith, Oliver 283, 301 

Grattan, Henry 172,281, 314 

Gray, Thomas 288 

Hadley, James 70, 75 

Hall, Joseph, Bishop 396 

Hall, Newman 30 

Hamilton, Alexander 124 

Harte, Frank Bret 196, 421 

Hayne, Robert Young 192, 325 

13 



14 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



PAGE 

Hemans, Felicia Dorothea.304, 324 

Henry, Patrick 112 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell 89, 179, 

207, 331 

Holt, Joseph 107 

Hood, Thomas 369 

Hugo, Victor 312, 400 

Hunt, Leigh 408 

James, John Angell 257 

Jay, John 292 

Jefferson, Thomas 316 

Jerrold, Douglas 403 

Johnson, Samuel 119 

Kennedy, William 397 

Khemnitzer 327 

Knowles, James Sheridan 93 

Korner, Carl Theodor 245 

Lamartine, Alphonse de 359 

Lewes, George Henry 40 

Lockhart, John Gibson 392, 406 

Longfellow, Henry W... 37, 194, 380 

Lovejoy, E. P 256 

Lover, Samuel 41 

Lowell, James Russell 41'9 

Lushington, Franklin 58 

Lytton, Lord (Bulwer) 80 

Macaulay, T. B., Lord... 59, 77, 248 

Mackay, Charles 189 

Madison, James 323 

Mahony, Francis (Father Prout), 

318 

Mann, Horace 99 

Massey, Gerald 210 

Mathews, Charles 147 

Mill, John Stuart 358 

Milton, John 213 

Mirabeau, Victor Gabriel 55 

Montgomery, James 92 

Moore, Thomas 216 

Mosen, Julius 224 

Nadattd, gustave 377 



O'Connell, Daniel 176 

Pellico, Silvio 225 

Penn, William 277 

Perier, Casimir 418 

Phillips, Wendell 85 

Pitt, William 305, 375 

Poe, Edgar A 72, 201 

Pope, Alexander.... 143, 349 

Proctor, Edna Dean 134 

Randolph, John 356 

Robespierre, Maximilian 290 

Roland, Madame 260 

Roscoe, William : 118 

Sand, George (Mme. Dudevant). 97 

Sargent, Epes..29, 126, 137, 147, 162, 

186, 220, 261, 354, 386 

Sargent, John Osborn 427 

Schiller, Johann C F. von 279 

Scott, Sir Walter.152, 254, 335, 420 

Shakspeare, William.,131,231, 233, 

295, 336, 427, 429 

Sheil, Richard Lalor 149 

Sheridan, R. B 81, 319,320, 411 

Smith, Rev. Sydney....195, 303, 368, 

383 

Spencer, Herbert 36 

Stockton, R. F 338 

Stolberg, Friedrich 100 

Taylor, Tom 370 

Tennyson, Alfred 167, 203 

Thackeray, Wm. M..51, 185, 390, 429 

Thompson, J. R 376 

Thornbury, G. W 258 

Timrod, Henry 105 

Trowbridge, J. T 269 

Twain, Mark (S. L. Clemens).... 43 

Walker, Timothy 211 

Walpole, Sir Robert 204 

Webster, Daniel...218, 240, 378, 399 

Whipple, Edwin P 101 

Wordsworth, William 340 



List of Illustrations.* 



PAGE 

Ornamental Design 5 

Literature and Painting (emblematic) 7 

Portrait of Christopher Columbus 25 

Roma (Roman Emblems, etc.) 29 

Napoleon at a Council of War 36 

Portrait of Lord Bacon 42 

Chatham's last speech, from the painting by J. S. Copley 49 

Mir abe au speaking from the French Tribune 55 

Portrait of Thomas Babington Macaulay, from a photograph 59 

Illustration of Poe's Poem of "The Raven" 72 

A Steeple Chase (Illustration of Lytton's Lines " To my Horse") 80 

Portrait of Demosthenes, from an ancient bust 86 

William Tell at Altorf, from a design by Sir John Gilbert 93 

Tell's Chapel on the Lake of Geneva 100 

Portrait of Cicero, from an ancient bas-relief 106 

Time (emblematic Illustration of Cotton's "To-morrow") 110 

Portrait of Patrick Henry 112 

The Fall of Wolsey, from a design by Sir John Gilbert 119 

Portrait of Alexander Hamilton 124 

Stratford-on-Avon, where Shakspeare was born 131 

Portrait of Edmund Burke 135 

Portraits of Robert Bruce and William Wallace 144 

Scene at the Impeachment of Warren Hastings 153 

Holland House, residence of Addison 159 

Portrait of Alfred Tennyson, from a photograph 167 

A Roman Arch in Ruins 175 

View of Lucknow, in India 183 

Reading Aloud (a domestic scene) 189 

The Arsenal at Springfield, Mass 194 

Portrait of Benjamin Franklin (taken in France) 198 

The Grandmother's Apology, from a design by Millais 203 

Portrait of Rev. Thomas Chalmers 209 

Portrait of John Milton 213 

The Birthplace of Washington 218 

Portrait of Silvio Pellico, drawn by Hammatt Billings 225 

Portrait of Ethan Allen 229 

Portrait of Mary Queen of Scots, from the painting by Zucchero... 234 

View of Lochleven Castle 236 

Chillon, where Bonnivard was confined 237 

Portrait of Daniel Webster, from a photograph by J. A. Whipple 240 

Death of Theodor Kornee 242 

* All the engravings in this work were executed by John Andrew & Son, Boston. 

15 



16 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

PAGE 

The Lyre and Sword (emblematic of Korner) ... 244 

Portrait of Charles Dickens, from a photograph 2*50 

Portrait of Sir Walter Scott 254 

St. Paul at Athens, from an engraving of Eaphael's painting 257 

Madame Poland, from a French lithograph by Auguste Bry 260 

Portrait of John C. Calhoun, from a miniature by Blanchard.... 267 

Portrait of Charles James Fox, after Sir Joshua Reynolds 272 

Portrait of Marie Antoinette 276 

Portrait of Schiller, from the painting by W. Schmidt 279 

Portrait of Goldsmith, from a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds 283 

Portrait of Thomas Gray 288 

Portrait of John Jay 292 

Shakspeare reading before Queen Elizabeth 295 

Portrait of J. P. Curran, from a painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence 298 

The Village Preacher, from a design by Sir John Gilbert 301 

The House of Commons in 1781 305 

Portrait of Lord Chatham, from a fine steel engraving of the orig- 
inal portrait by Brompton 309 

Portrait of Victor Hugo, from a photograph 312 

Portrait of Henry Grattan, from an engraving by S. Freeman.... 314 

Portrait of Thomas Jefferson 316 

Portrait of R. B. Sheridan, after Sir Joshua Reynolds 319 

Portrait of James Madison, from a painting by Gilbert Stuart... 323 

Portrait of Robert Y. Hayne, from a drawing by Longacre 325 

Portrait of Henry Clay, from a daguerreotype 328 

Portrait of Oliver Wendell Holmes, from a photograph 331 

Roman Emblems 333 

Portrait of William Shakspeare 336 

Grasmere, the Residence of Wordsworth 340 

Portrait of Wordsworth, from a painting by B. R. Haydon 340 

Portrait of Fenelon, from the picture by J. Vivien 347 

Pope's Villa at Twickenham, near London 349 

Portrait of Epes Sargent, from a photograph taken in London 354 

Portrait of Alphonse de Lamartine, from a lithograph by Aubert 359 

A Roman Arch in ruins 366 

Portrait of Thomas Hood 369 

Portrait of William Pitt, from a painting by J. Hoppner 375 

Portrait of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, after Healy 380 

The King of Thule, drawn by John Tenniel 385 

Wm. Makepeace Thackeray, from a photograph 390 

The Library, from a design by Hammatt Billings : 396 

Portrait of Thomas Carlyle 404 

Portrait of Edward Everett 409 

A German Soldier (design by Hugo Burkner) 415 

Portrait of Bret Harte, from a photograph 421 

The Dying Gladiator 426 





ATTITUDES OF REPOSE. 



ELOCUTION AS AN ART. 



ARTICULATION AND PRONUNCIATION. 

The first step to success as an elocutionist is the attainment of a dis- 
tinct, audible and engaging delivery. Words uttered clearly and dis- 
tinctly — dropped, as Austin expresses it, " like beautiful coins newly 
issued from the mint, perfectly finished, neatly struck by the proper 
organ" — do not require half the vocal effort to make them audible that 
the same words would if precipitately and indistinctly emitted. 

To acquire this clear, distinct utterance, begin with exercises limited 
to the one act of proper articulation. Practice the vowel and consonant 
sounds first in their elements, then united in syllables, in words, in 
sentences ; and do this, at first, with exclusive reference to accuracy, 
clearness and audibility. Words thus uttered may be said to be uttered 
mechanically. 

To make reading significant will be the next step ; and now not only 
must the words be nicely articulated, and those meant to join in sense 
be completely joined in pronunciation, but the various relations of 
clause to clause and of sentence to sentence must be made manifest by 

17 



18 ELOCUTION AS AN ART. 

the inflections of the voice. We must know these relations beforehand, or 
as we proceed in reading, in order to convey their full significance to the 
hearer. 

To become an expressive reader, the student must cease to think him- 
self a reader, and be a speaker ; for the principles of reading and speaking 
are the same, though the latter may allow more action and emotion than 
the former. 

If it be asked, In what does expression consist, over and above the 
modulation which conveys the sense? the answer is that it consists in 
the quality of the tone imparted by passion or emotion, and that it 
cannot be genuine unless the passion or emotion is real. Expression, 
therefore, cannot be taught like articulation and modulation, but it may 
be drawn out, where nature has furnished the material, by the force of 
example and the exercise of the imagination. 

With a voice flexible, capable of transition, resonant and sympathetic, 
the facile speaker finds that words serve him as colors do the painter. 
His voice, charged with the execution of the picture he would present, 
will by turns be sweet, harsh, lively, severe, insinuating, cold, fervent, 
humble, arrogant, majestic, simple, wrathful, affectionate, expressing 
all the various sentiments of the human heart, and illustrating all ages 
and conditions. 

To attempt to teach this highest order of elocution, the expressive, by 
any system of rule, sign or notation, is unphilosophical and hopeless, 
likely to defeat the very object it would aid. We cannot supply the 
imaginative and emotional faculties which are needed in the work. 

By pronunciation, in its restricted sense, we understand the exact em- 
ployment in utterance of the proper vowel and consonant sounds and 
accents which custom has established. As leading authorities differ in 
their mode of expressing these sounds, and in the degree of importance 
they attach to nice shades of difference, great care should be taken in 
training the voice to follow those modes which the best usage has sanc- 
tioned. 

A not uncommon fault is the attempt to give certain letters or com- 
binations their regular sound, although usage has introduced a-modifi- 
cation to which all intelligent teachers conform. Thus we hear the ai in 
again pronounced as long a instead of short e, as it ought to be ; the ee 
in been pronounced as long e instead of short i ; the unaccented vowel 
sounded in even, heaven, evil, etc. ; the u in minute (the noun) pronounced 
with its regular long sound instead of the sound of short i; apron 
pronounced as written, instead of a / purn. These faults, as they exhibit 
either affectation or ignorance, ought to be shunned. 

The power of articulation constitutes a marked difference between 
men and brutes. The latter, being unable to articulate, can only utter 



INFLECTION, EMPHASIS, PAUSE. 19 

indistinct sounds. There can be no good elocution without a pure, ac- 
curate articulation. Be careful to give to every word its proper sound, 
however rapid your utterance. Do not say an for and, spere for sphere, 
prmote for promote. Do not add to a word a sound that does not belong 
to it. Do not say helum for helm, chasum for chasm, acrost for across, lawr 
for law, git for get, kittle for kettle, kindniss for kindness. 

Distinguish between r trilled as in rage, and untrilled as in more. 
The practice of running words together, so as to make two or more 
sounds like one, is not proper in English. Do not say beforeher instead 
of before her ; acrosser, instead of across her, etc. Let every word be 
enunciated separately and clearly. When a word ends with $ and the 
next begins with s, the first must be pronounced distinctly and un- 
mingled with the second ; as, the hosts still fought, the mists seem gathering, 
etc. Do not pervert the sound of aw into or; do not say droving for 
drawing, sorring for sawing. 

Too much precision in utterance is almost as offensive as its oppo- 
site. There are some speakers so over-precise as to fall into the error 
of sounding the vowel in the last syllable of such words as -evil, even, 
heaven, shovel, etc. Let them consult their dictionaries, and they will 
see their error. 

INFLECTION, EMPHASIS, PAUSE. 

The rising inflection is that upward turn of the voice which we gen- 
erally use at the comma, or in asking a question which begins with a 
verb ; as, " Did he say no 7 ?" 

The falling inflection is generally, though not always, heard at the 
colon and semicolon, and must necessarily be heard in answer to the 
last question : " He did v ; he said noV Both these inflections are 
found in the following passage : "Does Csesar deserve fame v or blame v ?" 
The slide upward, primarily, signifies suspension or incompleteness, 
and the downward slide completion. The rising inflection is the tone 
of doubt and entreaty. In every conversation the upward or downward 
slide of the voice suggests either that the speaker has not finished the 
sentence or that he has entirely concluded the period. 

The peculiar emotion with which a question is put is the true guide 
to the inflection. Kules, therefore, for inflecting the voice, are likely 
to mislead. Direct questions, or those commencing with a verb, and 
which can be grammatically answered by a simple Yes or No, generally 
take the rising inflection; as. "Will you ride / ?" "Can he read 7 ?" 
But a direct question, to which the answer is anticipated, takes the 
falling inflection, as, " Ts not that a beautiful sunset v ?" A direct 
question, made emphatic by passion, may also take the falling inflec- 
tion. 



20 ELOCUTION AS AN ART. 

Emphasis is the mode of drawing attention to one or more words in 
a sentence, by pronouncing them with a greater volume and duration 
of sound and in a higher or lower note than the adjoining words. In 
the sentence, " I do not ask, I demand, your attention," the italicised 
words are the emphatic. That emphasis which is suggested by the 
sense is the most proper. Let a speaker be sure of the sense of what 
he is uttering, and his emphasis will be natural and varied. In com- 
parison with this general rule, all minor rules are worse than useless. 

" Pauses" says Knowles, " are essential only where the omission 
would obscure the sense, The orator who, in the act of delivering 
himself, is studiously solicitous about parceling his words, is sure to 
leave the best part of his work undone. He delivers words, not 
thoughts. Deliver thoughts, and words will take care of themselves. 
Mind is the thing." 

GESTURE AND ACTION. 

Modulation, inflection and vocal expression, however perfect, would 
fail to give delivery its full impressiveness, if the face and whole body 
did not sympathetically manifest the feeling which vibrates in the 
tones. Nothing can be more spiritless and unnatural than rigid still- 
ness on the part of the orator. Unaided by language, a person may 
by gesture alone convey his meaning to another ; whereas, without it, 
the most powerful language will often be tame and ineffective. " With 
the hand alone," says Sheridan, ,; we can demand a promise, call, dis- 
miss, threaten, supplicate, ask, deny, manifest joy, sorrow, detestation, 
fear, admiration," etc. 

But the tendency to gesticulate is so natural that instruction will 
generally be needed rather to subdue and chasten than to produce ges- 
ticulation. To a speaker of any animation, the greatest difficulty is to 
stand still. The judicious employment of moderate gesture is more 
effective than any possible amplification of spasmodic attitudes or re- 
dundancy of grimace. No one can recite with propriety what he does 
not feel, and the key to gesture, as well as to moderation, is earnest- 
ness. No actor can portray character unless he can realize it, and he 
can only realize it by making it for the time his own. 

As the head gives the chief grace to the person, so does it principally 
contribute to the expression of grace in delivery. It must be held in an 
erect and natural position, for when drooped, it is expressive of humil- 
ity ; when turned upward, of arrogance; when inclined to one side, it 
expresses languor; and when stiff and rigid, it indicates a lack of ease 
and self-possession. Its movements should be suited to the character 
of the delivery ; they should accord with the gesture, and fall in with 
the action of the hand and the motion of the body. 



X 



DELIVERY OF DIALOGUES. 21 



The eyes, which are of the utmost consequence in aiding the expres- 
sion of the- orator, are generally to be directed as the gesture points, 
except when we have occasion to condemn or refuse, or to require an 
object to be removed ; on which occasion we should at the same moment 
express aversion in our countenance and reject by our gesture. A list- 
less, inanimate expression of countenance will always detract from the 
effect of the most eloquent sentiments and the most appropriate utter- 
ance. 

In the natural order of passionate expression, looks are first, gestures 
second, and words last. Inexpressive motions should always be 
avoided. No gesture should be made without a reason for it; and 
when any position has been assumed, there should be no change from 
it without a reason. The habit of allowing the hands to fall to the 
side immediately after every gesture produces an ungracefully restless 
effect. A gesture that illustrates nothing is worse than useless. It de- 
stroys the effect of really appropriate movements. Perhaps the most 
difficult part of delivery is gracefully to stand still. Let the speaker 
study this. It was happily said by Churchill, in describing Garrick's 
acting, " Each start is Nature, and each pause is Thought." 

DELIVERY OF DIALOGUES. 

In a dialogue between two, each speaker should, as a general rule, 
stand obliquely, except in passages not directly addressed to the other, 
or where inattention is to be expressed. The party to the dialogue 
who is listening should, for the most part, let his arms hang naturally 
by his side, or with hands approaching, unless what is said by the other 
is of a character to excite agitation or surprise : or he may, with pro- 
priety, occasionally stand with arms folded, or with the right hand in 
the left breast, or the left in the right. 

In dialogues having more than two characters for representation, the 
persons should be arranged in a picturesque manner, agreeably to the 
laws of perspective. 

Before being adopted for representation, the business, as it is techni- 
cally called, of the dialogue should be fully marked in ; all the action, 
even to walking across the stage and the change of position by one or 
more of the characters, should be clearly noted. The directions of exit 
and entrance, whether on the right or left, should be all prearranged and 
marked. In marking the relative positions, etc., let E. stand for right ; 
L. for left ; C. for Centre ; K. C. for Eight of Centre ;. L. C. for Left of 
Centre, etc. To indicate a crossing of the stage from right to left, the 
following abbreviation may be used, namely, X to L. 

Passages marked for aside utterance should be so delivered as to be 



22 ELOCUTION AS AN ART. 

fully intelligible to the audience, though they are supposed to be un- 
heard by the other person or persons on the stage. 

Bowing to the audience, on entering to take part in a dialogue, should, 
as a general rule, be avoided, inasmuch as it may interfere greatly with 
the effect upon the imagination which it may be desirable to produce. 
When Brutus and Cassius enter quarreling, it detracts from the abrupt- 
ness and naturalness of the scene to preface it with a formal bow to an 
audience. Still, there may be occasions at the close of a dialogue where 
a bow is not inappropriate. 

We need not urge the importance of being perfect in the language of 
a part. Nothing so destroys the illusion of a representation as to hear 
the prompter's voice breaking in, or to see any one of the dramatis per- 
sonoe under the embarrassment of not knowing what to say. 



EXERCISES IN INFLECTION. 

1. Foe. I am persuaded that neither death 7 , nor life v — nor angels 7 , nor 
principalities 7 , nor powers v — nor things present 7 , nor things to come v — 
nor height 7 , nor depth\ nor any other s creature — shall be able to sepa- 
rate us from the love of God\ 

2. They, through faith, subdued kingdoms 7 , wrought righteousness 7 , 
obtained promises 7 , stopped the mouths of lions 7 , quenched the violence 
of fire 7 , escaped the edge of the sword 7 — out of weakness were made 
strong 7 , waxed valiant in fight 7 , and turned to flight the armies of the 

aliens\ 

3. Can such things be 7 , 

And overcome us like a summer cloud 7 , 
Without our special wonder 7 ? 

4. Who can look down upon the grave, even of an enemy\ and not 
feel a compunctious throb that he should ever have warred with the 
poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him s ? 

5. O my son Absalom 7 ! my son 7 , my son Absalom ! Would God I 
had died for thee, Absalom 7 , my son 7 , my son N ! 

6. If I were an American 7 , as I am an Englishman 7 , while a foreign 
troop was landed in my country 7 , 1 never v would lay down my arms 7 — 
never\ never\ never N ! 

7. Could you come back to me, Douglas 7 , Douglas 7 , 
In the old likeness that I knew 7 , 
I would be so faithful 7 , so loving 7 , Douglas 7 , 
Douglas 7 , Douglas 7 , tender and true\ 



EXERCISES IN INFLECTION. 23 

Stretch out your hand to me', Douglas', Douglas', 
Drop forgiveness from heaven' like dew v ; 

As I lay my hand on your dead heart, Douglas', 
Douglas', Douglas', tender and true\ 

8. How shall I curse' whom God hath not cursed N ? or how shall I 
defy' whom the Lord x hath not v defied N ? 

9. Abhor the sword'? Stigmatize the sword' ? No! for at its blow 
a giant nation started from the waters of the Atlantic', and by the re- 
deeming magic of the sword', and in the quivering of its crimson light', 
the crippled colony sprang into the attitude of a proud republic — pros- 
perous', limitless' and invincible' ! 

10. " Knowledge is powerV Yes\ power v ! — power to do what v ? 
Power to employ the senses and faculties which God has given us' in 
examining the works which he has made\ and thus to acknowledge, 
in all creation, "These are thy glorious worksM" 

11. Flag of the heroes who left us their glory', 

Borne through our battle-fields' thunder and flame', 
Blazoned in song and illumined in story', 
Wave o'er us all who inherit thy fame v ; 
Up with our banner bright', 
Sprinkled with starry light v ; 
Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore v ; 
While through the sounding sky', 
Loud rings the nation's cry', 
Union and Liberty v ! one evermore v ! 

12. Swear', sir' ? — I', a man', an American citizen', a Christian', 
swear to submit myself to the guidance and direction of other men', 
surrendering my own judgment to their judgment, and my own conscience 
to their keeping' f No\ sir, no v ! 

13. Secession' ? Peaceable secession' ? Sir, your eyes and mine are 
never destined to see that niiracle\ The dismemberment of this vast 
country without convulsion'! The breaking up of the fountains of 
the great deep without ruffling the surface' ! Who is so foolish' — I 
beg everybody's pardon v — as to expect to see any such thing v ? 

14. What is a man', 

If his chief good and market of his time v 

Be but to sleep and feed v ? — a beast\ no more v ! 

Sure, He that made us with such large discourse', 

Looking before and after, gave us not 

That capability and godlike reason' 

To rust in us unused v ! 



24 



ELOCUTION AS AN ART. 



15. And what is. death'', ray friends, that I should fear it v ? 
To die 7 ! why, 'tis to triumph v ! 'tis to join 

The great assembly of the good and just N ; 

Immortal worthies 7 , heroes 7 , prophets 7 , saints v ! 

'Tis to behold 7 (oh, rapture to conceive 7 !) 

Those we have known and loved and lost below v ! 

To join in blest hosannas to their King N ! 

This is to die 7 ! Who would not die for this ? 

Who would not die' ? Who would not live for ever N ! 

16. Show me what thou'lt do v ! 

Wilt weep 7 ? wilt fight 7 ? wilt fast 7 ? wilt tear 7 thyself 1 

Wilt drink up Esill 7 ? eat a crocodile 7 ? 

Fir* do't N ! Dost thou come here to whine 7 ? 

To outface me with leaping in her grave 7 ? 

Be v buried quick with her, and so will I N : 

And, if thou prate of mountains 7 , let them throw 

Millions of acres on us N ; till our ground, 

Singeing his pate against the burning zone, 

Make Ossa like a wart v ! Nay, an thou'lt mou v th, 

I'll rant as well as thou'*. 




OXFORD'S 

Senior Speaker 



1.— THE ENTERPRISE OP COLUMBUS. 

About half a league from the little seaport of Palos, in the 
province of Andalusia, in Spain, stands a convent dedicated to 
St. Mary. Some time in the year 1486 a poor wayfaring 

stranger, accompanied 
by a small boy, makes 
his appearance on foot 
at the gate of this con- 
vent, and begs of the 
porters a little bread 
and water for his child. 
This friendless stranger 
is Columbus. Brought 
up in the hardy occupa- 
tion of a mariner, occa- 
sionally serving in the 
fleets of his native coun- 
try, with the burden 
of fifty years upon his 
frame, the unprotected 
foreigner makes his suit 
to the sovereigns of Portugal and Spain. 

He tells them that the broad flat earth on which we tread is 
round, and he proposes, with what seems a sacrilegious hand, 
to lift the veil which had hung, from the creation of the world, 
over the bounds of the ocean. He promises by a western 

3 25 




COLUMBUS. 



26 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

coursj to reach the eastern shore of Asia — the region of gold, 
and diamonds, and spices ; to extend the sovereignty of Chris- 
tian kings over realms and nations hitherto unapproached and 
unknown ; and ultimately to perform a new crusade to the 
Holy Land, and with the new-found gold of the East to ran- 
som the sepulchre of our Saviour. 

Who shall believe the chimerical pretension ? The learned 
men examine it, and pronounce it futile. The royal pilots 
have ascertained, by their own experience, that it is a ground- 
less scheme. The common sense and popular feeling of men 
have been kindled into disdain and indignation toward a pro- 
ject which represented one half of mankind as walking with 
their feet toward the other half. 

Such is the reception which his proposal meets. For a long 
time the great cause of humanity, depending on the discovery 
of this fair continent, is involved in the fortitude, perseverance 
and spirit of the solitary stranger, already past the time of 
life when the pulse of adventure beats full and high. If, sink- 
ing beneath the indifference of the great, the sneers of the wise, 
the enmity of the masses and the persecution of a host of 
adversaries, high and low, he give up the thankless pursuit of 
his noble vision, what a hope for mankind is blasted ! But he 
does not sink. 

At length, after years of expectation, importunity and hope 
deferred, he launches forth upon the unknown deep to discover 
a new world under the patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella. 
From his ancient resort of Palos, which he first visited as a 
mendicant, in three frail barks, of which two were without 
decks, the great discoverer of America sails forth on the first 
voyage across the unexplored ocean. Such is the patronage 
of kings. 

A few years pass by ; he discovers a new hemisphere ; the 
wildest of his visions fade into insignificance before the reality 
of their fulfillment; he finds a new world for Castile and Leon, 
and comes back to Spain loaded with chains. Republics, it is 
said, are ungrateful ; such are the rewards of monarchies ! 

Edward Everett. 



THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 27 

2.— THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 

Let me offer you two feebly outlined word-pictures of events 
which were transacted on the same arena at the interval of 
nearly four centuries. The epoch of the first is the autumn of 
1492. The scene is the mid- Atlantic, and on its bosom floats 
the frail caravel of Columbus. It is midnight, and the aston- 
ished pilots are gazing with awe on the compass needle, which 
has ceased to point to the north star, and has veered round to 
the west, and they ask the great admiral what this unheard- 
of variation may mean. To him it is a mystery as well as to 
them, but he has an explanation which contents them ; and for 
himself, however mysterious it may be, it is anew the finger of 
God bidding him sail westward still, and he follows its new 
pointing, till it lands him on the shore he has so often seen in 
his dreams. The time of the second picture is 1858. The 
scene, as before, is the mid-Atlantic, and on its bosom a great 
English steamship is silently gliding with every sail furled. 
It is midnight again, and the sailors, as in the caravel four 
centuries ago, are gazing with intent eyes upon a quivering 
needle. It is not now, however, a mere compass needle; but 
armed with a tiny mirror, it lies in the centre of a coil of wire 
looped to the great cable which, as electric signals pass along 
it, is every moment bringing the Old and the New Worlds 
nearer each other in time. 

Every quiver to east and west that the needle makes, as the 
voltaic current sweeps round the coil, flashes from the mirror 
a spot of light on a screen, and marks a step in progress ; and 
all watch the face of the electrician, the Columbus of this voy- 
age, to whom alone these spots of light are intelligible and 
eloquent of success. And so the mirrored, flashing galvanom- 
eter sways about till the voyage ends ; and then Gloria in Ex- 
celsis is literally quivered in light, as it was by its first singers 
the angels, and in unconscious repetition of its chant by the 
kneeling crews of Columbus four centuries ago. Let us wish 
all success to the telegraph everywhere. The best interests of 
the world are bound up in its progress, and its mission is em- 



23 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

piratically one of peace. It does not merely speak swiftly, but 
softly ; and it offers men a common speech in which all man- 
kind can converse together. 

"Men have spoken, men have dreamed, of a universal tongue; 
Universal speech can be only when the words are sung. 
When our harp has all its strings, and its music fills the air, 
In a universal tongue all the world shall share." 



3.— A TRUE HERO. 

At a great fire in London, June 22, 1861, James Braidwood lost his life 
while venturing into a burning warehouse to encourage his men. He was 
killed by a falling wall. Similar deaths took place at the great fire in 
Boston, November, 1872. 

Not at the battle front, writ of in story, 
Not on the blazing wreck, steering to glory, 
Not while in mortal pangs soul and flesh sever, 
Died he, this hero new — hero for ever ! 

No pomp poetic crowned, no forms enchained him, 
No friends applauding watched, no foes arraigned him ; 
Death found him there without grandeur or beauty — 
Only an honest man doing his duty ! 

Just a God-fearing man, simple and lowly, 
Constant at kirk and hearth, kindly and lowly ; 
Death found and touched him with finger in flying, 
So he rose up complete — hero undying. 

All now lament for him — lovingly raise him 
Up from his life obscure, chronicle, praise him ; 
Tell his last act, done midst peril appalling, 
And the last words of cheer from his lips falling. 

So many a hero walks daily beside us 
Till comes the hour supreme sent to divide us. 
Then the Lord calls his own, like this man even, 
Carried, Elijah-like, fire-winged, to heaven ! 

Mrs. Mulock Craik. 



REGULUS TO THE ROMAN SENATE. 



29 




MK&) 

4.— REGULUS TO THE ROMAN SENATE. 

Ill does it become me, Senators of Rome! — ill does it be- 
come Reg'ulus, after having so often stood in this venerable 
assembly, clothed with the supreme dignity of the republic — 
to stand before you now a captive — the captive of Carthage! 
For though outwardly I am free, the heaviest of chains, the 
pledge of a Roman consul, makes me the bondsman of the 
Carthaginians. They have my promise to return to them in 
the event of the failure of this their embassy. My life is at 
their mercy. My honor is at no man's mercy. It is my own — 
my own even in death. 

Ambassadors of Carthage! ye have brought me here, ex- 
pecting that I would argue your cause, and that my very pres- 
ence would secure your object. Listen, then, to what I now say, 
in your presence, to the Senate. Conscript Fathers, there is 
but one course to be pursued. Abandon all thought of peace. 
Reject the overtures of Carthage. What! Give back to her 
a thousand able-bodied men, and receive in return this one 
attenuated, war-worn, fever-wasted frame, this weed whitened 
in a dungeon's darkness, pale and sapless, which no kindness 
of the sun, no softness of the summer breeze, can ever restore 
to health and vigor? It must not, it shall not, be! 

Were Regulus what he once was, he might pause, and proudly 
think he were well worth a thousand of the foe. But now — 
his very armor would be a burthen now ! But if he cannot 
live, he can at least die, for his country. Do not deny him this 



30 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

supreme consolation. Every indignity, every torture, which 
Carthage shall heap on his dying hours, will be better than a 
trumpet's call to your armies. Romans will remember only 
Regulus, their fellow-soldier and their leader. They will for- 
get his defeats and think only of his triumphs — of his many 
services to the republic. Tunis, Sardinia, Sicily — every well- 
fought field won by his blood and theirs — will flash on their 
remembrance and kindle their avenging wrath. And so shall 
Regulus, in the spirit, fight better against the foe than he ever 
fought in the flesh. 

To you, Conscript Fathers, to you and to Rome, I confide 
my family. I leave them no legacy but my name, no estate 
but my example. 

Ambassadors of Carthage, I have spoken, though not as you 
desired. I am your captive. Lead me back to whatever fate 
your disappointment and your wrath may prepare for me. 
Doubt not that you shall find, to Roman hearts country is 
dearer than life, and integrity more precious than freedom. 

Sargent. 



5.— THE DIGNITY OP LABOR. 

There is dignity in toil — in toil of the hand as well as toil 
of the head — in toil to provide for the bodily wants of an in- 
dividual life, as well as in toil to promote some enterprise of 
world-wide fame. All labor that tends to supply man's wants, 
to increase man's happiness, to elevate man's nature — in a 
word, all labor that is honest — is honorable too. Labor 
clears the forest, and drains the morass, and makes "the 
wilderness rejoice and blossom as the rose." Labor drives 
the plow, and scatters the seeds, and reaps the harvest, 
and grinds the corn, and converts it into bread, the staff of 
life. Labor, tending the pastures and sweeping the waters as 
well as cultivating the soil, provides with daily sustenance the 
nine hundred millions of the family of man. Labor gathers 
the gossamer web of the caterpillar, the cotton from the field 



THE DIGNITY OF LABOR. 31 

and the fleece from the flock, and weaves it into raiment soft 
and warm and beautiful, the purple robe of the prince and 
the gray gown of the peasant being alike its handiwork. 
Labor moulds the brick, and splits the slate, and quarries the 
stone, and shapes the column, and rears not only the humble 
cottage, but the gorgeous palace, and the tapering spire, and 
the stately dome. Labor, diving deep into the solid earth, 
brings up its long-hidden stores of coal to feed ten thousand 
furnaces, and in millions of homes to defy the winter's cold. 

Labor explores the rich veins of deeply-buried rocks, ex- 
tracting the gold and silver, the copper and tin. Labor smelts 
the iron, and moulds it into a thousand shapes for use and 
ornament, from the massive pillar to the tiniest needle, from 
the ponderous anchor to the wire gauze, from the mighty fly- 
wheel of the steam-engine to the polished purse-ring or the 
glittering bead. Labor hews down the gnarled oak, and 
shapes the timber, and builds the ship, and guides it over the 
deep, plunging through the billows, and wrestling with the 
tempest, to bear to our shores the produce of every clime. 

Labor, laughing at difficulties, spans majestic rivers, carries 
viaducts over marshy swamps, suspends bridges over deep 
ravines, pierces the solid mountain with its dark tunnel, 
blasting rocks and filling hollows, and while linking together 
with its iron but loving grasp all nations of the earth, verify- 
ing, in a literal sense, the ancient prophecy, " Every valley 
shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be brought 
low ;" labor draws forth its delicate iron thread, and stretching 
it from city to city, from province to province, through moun- 
tains and beneath the sea, realizes more than fancy ever fabled, 
while it constructs a chariot on which speech may -outstrip the 
wind, and compete with the lightning, for the telegraph flies as 
rapidly as thought itself. 

Labor, a mighty magician, walks forth into a region unin- 
habited and waste ; he looks earnestly at the scene, so quiet in 
its desolation ; then waving his wonder-working wand, those 
dreary valleys smile with golden harvests ; those barren moun- 
tain-slopes are clothed with foliage ; the furnace blazes ; the 



32 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

anvil rings ; the busy wheel whirls round ; the town appears ; 
the mart of commerce, the hall of science, the temple of re- 
ligion, rear high their lofty fronts ; a forest of masts gay with 
varied pennons rises from the harbor ; representatives of far- 
off regions make it their resort ; Science enlists the elements of 
earth and heaven in its service ; Art, awakening, clothes its 
strength with beauty; Civilization smiles; Liberty is glad; 
Humanity rejoices ; Piety exults, for the voice of industry and 
gladness is heard on every side. 

Working men, walk worthy of your vocation ! You have 
a noble escutcheon ; disgrace it not. There is nothing really 
mean and low but sin. Stoop not from your lofty throne to 
defile yourselves by contamination with intemperance, licen- 
tiousness or any form of evil. Labor, allied with virtue, may 
look up to Heaven and not blush, .while all worldly dignities, 
prostituted to vice, will leave their owner without a corner of 
the universe in which to hide his shame. You will most suc- 
cessfully prove the honor of toil by illustrating in your own 
persons its alliance with a sober, righteous and godly life. Be 
ye sure of this, that the man of toil, who works in a spirit of 
obedient, loving homage to God, does no less than cherubim 
and seraphim in their loftiest flights and holiest songs. 

Newman Hall. 



6.— A CHINESE STORY. 

None are so wise as they who make pretense 
To know what fate conceals from mortal sense. 
This moral from a tale of Ho-hang-ho 
Might have been drawn a thousand years ago, 
When men were left to their unaided senses, 
Long ere the days of spectacles and lenses. 

Two young short-sighted fellows, Chang and Ching, 
Over their chopsticks idly chattering, 
Fell to disputing which could see the best ; 
At last they agreed to put it to the test. 



A CHINESE STORY. 33 

Said Chang, " A marble tablet, so I hear, 
Is placed upon the Bo-hee temple near, 
With an inscription on it. Let us go 
And read it (since you boast your optics so), 
Standing together at a certain place 
In front, where we the letters just may trace ; 
Then he who quickest reads the inscription there 
The palm for keenest eyes henceforth shall bear." 
" Agreed," said Ching, " but let us try it soon : 
Suppose we say to-morrow afternoon." 

" Nay, not so soon," said Chang ; " I'm bound to go 
To-morrow a day's ride from Ho-hang-ho, 
And sha'n't be ready till the following day : 
At ten A. M. on Thursday, let us say." 

So 'twas arranged ; but Ching was wide awake : 
Time by the forelock he resolved to take ; 
And to the temple w T ent at once, and read 
Upon the tablet : "To the illustrious dead, 
The chief of mandarins, the great Goh-Bang." 
Scarce had he gone when stealthily came Chang, 
Who read the same ; but peering closer, he 
Spied in a corner what Ching failed to see — 
The words, " This tablet is erected here 
By those to whom the great Goh-Bang was dear." 

So on the appointed day — both innocent 

As babes, of course — these honest fellows went, 

And took their distant station ; and Ching said, 

"I can read plainly, 'To the illustrious dead, 
The chief of mandarins, the great Goh-Bang.' " 

" And is that all that you can spell ?" said Chang ; 

" I see what you have read, but furthermore, 
In smaller letters, toward the temple door, 
Quite plain, ' This tablet is erected here 
By those to whom the great Goh-Bang was dear.' " 

c 



34 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

" My sharp-eyed friend, there are no such words ! " said Ching. 

" They're there," said Chang, " if I see anything, 
As clear as daylight." " Patent eyes, indeed, 
You have ! " cried Ching ; " do you think I cannot read?" 

" Not at this distance as I can," Chang said, 

" If what you say you saw is all you read." 

In fine, they quarreled, and their wrath increased, 
Till Chang said, " Let us leave it to the priest ; 
Lo ! here he comes to meet us." " It is well," 
Said honest Ching; "no falsehood he will tell." 

The good man heard their artless story through, 
And said, " I think, dear sirs, there must be few 
Blest with such wondrous eyes as those you wear : 
There's no such tablet or inscription there ! 
There was one, it is true ; 'twas moved away 
And placed within the temple yesterday." 

C. P. Ckanch. 



7.— COMPULSORY EDUCATION. 

The public safety demands that a huge mass of ignorance 
and imbecility be not allowed to accumulate, generating untold 
damage to the commonwealth. It is therefore just and proper 
that Society should take measures to guard herself against 
dangers thus foreseen. Compulsory education is logically 
desirable and highly philosophic. But is it practicable ? 

If compulsory education, after a period of discussion and 
agitation, at last take its place among our laws, it will be 
needful to pass another law compelling the policemen, super- 
intendents and other executives to compel the parents. If this 
do not make the wheels move smoothly, it will be needful, after 
a proper period of waiting, to pass another law, compelling the 
official compellers to do their duty. Continue this process far 
enough, and it becomes mathematically certain that at last 



COMPULSORY EDUCATION. 35 

every member of the community will become officially respon- 
sible to compel somebody to do something. And when every 
man is thus armed and made responsible for his neighbor's 
fidelity, the happy days have come. 

Of all this we have a beautiful prophecy in the old English 
nursery ballad which sets forth the trials of the old woman 
that went to the fair and bought a kid. which was to be driven 
home. But the kid wouldn't go. Whereupon she appealed 
to the dog: " Dog, dog, bite kid. Kid won't go." The dog 
being easy-tempered, she appealed to the stick : " Stick, stick, 
beat dog ; dog won't bite kid ; kid won't go." The stick needed 
compulsion, and she called to the fire: " Fire, fire, burn stick ; 
stick won't beat dog ; dog won't bite kid ; kid won't go." But 
the fire was slow. " Water, water, quench fire," cried the 
compulsory old lady. And when the water hesitated, " Ox, 
ox, drink water ; water won't quench fire," etc. To compel the 
ox she found the butcher : " Butcher, butcher, kill ox." And 
when he was slack she appealed to the rope : " Rope, rope, 
hang butcher." 

At last she had found the primum mob'i-le, and like a vision 
of the millennium, the whole concatenation of compulsion be- 
gan to go, driving and driven. I remember — I can never for- 
get — the delight with which I viewed it. The rope began to 
hang the butcher. The butcher began to kill the ox. The 
ox began to drink the water. The water began to quench the 
fire. The fire began to burn the stick. The stick began to 
beat the dog. The dog began to bite the kid. The kid began 
to go. 

And so in these days, when earnest-minded patriots, viewing 
great evils, think out an admirable future — " If we could only 
get a compulsory law" — my mind makes a short question of 
it. Where is the rope that will begin to hang somebody? In 
Prussia we have no difficulty in finding the rope ; compulsion 
works admirably there. But in this land of the free and home 
of the brave, I look in vain for the man or class of men to 
originate compulsions. " Drive on," all cry. But where is the 
driver? Thos. K. Beecher. 



36 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




8.— NAPOLEON. 

Out of the sanguinary chaos of the French revolution there 
rose a soldier whose immense ability, joined with his absolute 
unscrupulousness, made him now general, now consul, now 
autocrat. He was untruthful in an extreme degree, lying in 
his despatches day by day, never writing a page without bad 
faith — nay, even giving to others lessons in telling falsehoods. 
He professed friendship while plotting to betray, and quite 
early in his career made the wolf-and-lamb fable his guide. 
He got antagonists into his power by promises of clemency, 
and then executed them. To strike terror, he descended to 
barbarities like those of the bloodthirsty conquerors of old, of 
whom his career reminds us ; as in Egypt, when, to avenge fifty 
.of his soldiers, he beheaded two thousand fellahs, throwing 
their headless corpses into the Nile; or as at Jaffa, when 
twenty-five hundred of the garrison, who finally surrendered, 
were at his order deliberately massacred. Even his own offi- 
cers, not over-scrupulous, as we may suppose, were shocked by 
his brutality, sometimes refusing to execute his sanguinary 
decrees. 



KILLED AT THE FORD. 37 

Year after year he went on sacrificing, by tens of thousands 
and hundreds of thousands, the French people and the people 
of Europe at large, to gratify his lust of power and his hatred 
of opponents. To feed his insatiable ambition, and to crush 
those who resisted his efforts after universal dominion, he went 
on seizing the young men of France, forming army after army 
that were destroyed in destroying like armies raised by neigh- 
boring nations. 

In the Russian campaign alone, out of 552,000 French 
left dead or prisoners, but a small portion returned to France ; 
while the Russian force of more than 200,000 was reduced to 
30,000 or 40,000 ; implying a total sacrifice of considerably 
more than half a million lives. And when the mortality on 
both sides by death in battle, by wounds and by disease, 
throughout all the Napoleonic campaigns, is summed up, it 
exceeds, at the lowest computation, two millions. And all this 
slaughter, all this suffering, all this devastation, was gone 
through because one man had a restless desire to be despot 
over all men. And now what has been thought and felt in 
England about the two sets of events above contrasted, and 
about the actors in them? For the bloodshed of the Revolu- 
tion there has been utter detestation, and for those who wrought 
it, unqualified hate ; for the immeasurably greater bloodshed 
which these wars of the consulate and the empire entailed, 
little or no horror is expressed ; while the feeling toward the 
modern Attila, who was guilty of this bloodshed, is shown by 
decorating rooms with portraits and busts of him. 

Herbert Spencer. 



9.— KILLED AT THE FORD. 

He is dead, the beautiful youth, 

The heart of honor, the tongue of truth — 

He, the life and light of us all, 

Whose voice was blithe as a bugle call. 



38 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Whom all eyes followed with one consent, 

The cheer of Avhose laugh, and whose pleasant word, 

Hushed all murmurs of discontent. 

Only last night, as we rode along, 
Down the dark of the mountain gap, 
To visit the picket-guard at the ford, 
Little dreaming of any mishap, 
He was humming the words of some old song : 
" Two red roses he had on his cap, 
And another he bore at the point of his sword." 

Sudden and swift a whistling ball 
Came out of a wood, and the voice was still : 
Something I heard in the darkness fall, 
And for a moment my blood grew chill ; 
I spake in a whisper, as he who speaks 
In a room where some one is lying dead ; 
But he made no answer to what I said. 

We lifted him up to his saddle again, 

And through the mire and the mist and the rain 

Carried him back to the silent camp, 

And laid him as if asleep on his bed ; 

And I saw by the light of the surgeon's lamp 

Two white roses upon his cheeks, 

And one just over his heart, blood-red. 

And I saw in a vision how far and fleet 

That fatal bullet went speeding forth, 

Till it reached a town in the distant North, 

Till it reached a house in a sunny street, 

Till it reached a heart that ceased to beat 

Without a murmur, without a cry; 

And a bell was tolled in that far-off town, 

For one that had passed from cross to crown, 

And the neighbors wondered that she should die. 

H. W. Longfellow, b. 1807. 



BRUTUS OVER THE BEAD LUCRETIA. 39 

10.— BRUTUS OVER THE DEAD LUCRETIA. 

You are amazed, O Romans ! even amid the general horror 
at Lucretia's death, that Brutus, whom you have known hith- 
erto only as the fool, should all at once assume the language 
and bearing of a man ! Did not the sibyl say a fool should 
set Rome free ? I am that fool ! Brutus bids Rome be free ! 
If he has played the fool, it was to seize the wise man's op- 
portunity. Here he throws off the mask of madness. 'Tis 
Lucius Junius now, your countryman, who calls upon you, by 
this innocent blood, to swear eternal vengeance against kings ! 

Look, Romans ! turn your eyes on this sad spectacle — the 
daughter of Lucretius, Collatinus' wife! By her own hand 
she died. See there a noble lady, whom the ruffian lust of a 
Tarquin reduced to the necessity of being her own executioner 
to attest her innocence. Hospitably entertained by her as her 
husband's kinsman, Sextus, the perfidious guest, inflicted an 
outrage which the chaste, the generous Lucretia could not sur- 
vive. Heroic matron ! But once only treated as a slave, life 
was no longer endurable ! 

And if she, with her soft woman's nature, disdained a life 
that depended on a tyrant's will, shall we — shall men, with 
such an example before their eyes, and after five-and-twenty 
years of ignominious servitude — shall we, through a fear of 
death, delay one moment to assert our freedom? No, Romans! 
The favorable moment is come. The time is — now! Fear 
not that the army will take the part of their generals, rather 
than of the people. The love of liberty is natural to all, and 
your fellow-citizens in the camp feel the weight of oppression 
as sensibly as you. Doubt not they will as eagerly seize the 
opportunity of throwing off their yoke. Courage, Romans ! 
The gods are for us — those gods whose temples and altars the 
impious Tarquin has profaned. By the blood of the wronged 
Lucretia, I swear — hear me, ye powers supreme — by this 
blood, which was once so pure and which nothing but royal 
villainy could have polluted, I swear that I will pursue, with 
fire and sword, these Tarquins to the death ; nor will I ever 



40 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



suffer any one of that family, or of any other family what- 
soever, to be king in Rome ! On to the Forum ! Bear the 
body hence high in the public view through all the streets ! 
On, Romans, on ! The fool shall set you free. 



11.— HARD WORKERS. 

There is, in the present day, an overplus of raving about 
genius and its prescriptive rights of vagabondage, its irrespon- 
sibility, and its insubordination to all the laws of common 
sense. Common sense is so prosaic ! Yet it appears from the 
history of art that the real men of genius did not rave about 
anything of the kind. They were resolute workers, not idle 
dreamers. They knew that their genius was not a frenzy, not 
a supernatural thing, at all, but simply the colossal proportions 
of faculties which, in a lesser degree, the meanest of mankind 
shared with them. They knew that, whatever it was, it would 
not enable them to accomplish with success the things they 
undertook, unless they devoted their whole energies to the task. 

"Use the pen," says a thoughtful and subtle author; "there 
is no magic in it, but it keeps the mind from staggering about." 
This is an aphorism which should be printed in letters of gold 
over the studio door of every artist. Use the pen or the brush ; 
do not pause, do not trifle, have no misgivings, but keep your 
mind from staggering about by fixing it resolutely upon the 
matter before you, and then all that you can do you will do ; 
inspiration will not enable you to do more. Write or paint ; 
act, do not hesitate. If what you have written or painted 
should turn out imperfect, you can correct it, and the correc- 
tion will be more efficient than that correction which takes 
place in the shifting thoughts of hesitation. 

You will learn from your failures infinitely more than from 
the vague wandering reflections of a mind loosened from its 
moorings, because the failure is absolute, it is precise, it stands 
bodily before you; your eyes and judgment cannot be juggled 
with ; vou know whether a certain verse is harmonious, whether 



THE BRIDAL Ob' GALTMIM. 41 



the rhyme is there or not there ; but in the other case you not 
only can juggle with yourself, but do so — the very indetermi- 
nateness of your thoughts makes you do so ; as loug as the idea 
is not positively clothed in its artistic form, it is impossible 
accurately to say what it will be. The magic of the pen lies 
in the concentration of your thoughts upon au object. 

Let your pen fall, begin to trine with the blotting-paper, look 
at the ceiling, bite your nails, and otherwise dally with your pur- 
pose, and you waste your time, scatter your thoughts, and repress 
the nervous energy necessary for your task. Some men dally, 
hesitate and trifle until the last possible moment, and when the 
printer's boy is knocking at the door, they begin ; necessity 
goading them, they write with singular success ; they are aston- 
ished at themselves. What is the secret ? Simply this, they 
have had no time to hesitate. Concentrating their powers 
upon the one object before them,, they have done what they 
could. G. H. Lewes. 



12— THE BRIDAL OF GALTRIM. 

The priest's at the altar ; the bride and the groom, 

The bridesmaids — and gallants, with doff'cl cap and plume, 

Are kneeling around till the word forth is gone 

That blesses the union of two into one. 

But while the devout were responding "Amen," 

The blast of a war-trumpet rang through the glen, 

And each man, as he sprang to his feet, gripp'd his sword. 

While the fresh-plighted hand of the bride held her lord. 

" Oh, hold me not, dearest ! — you would not detain ? 
It is honor to go — 'twere disgrace to remain. 
The foe's at the gate ; we must drive him away : 
A joust is befitting a chief's wedding-day!" 
He buckled his mail o'er his gay wedding garb ; 
He call'd for his lance, and he sprang on his barb, 
And waved back a graceful adieu as he cried, 

"A victor I soon will be back with my bride!" 
4 * 



42 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



And soon was he back, and a victor beside, 

But 'twas to his widow, and not to his bride ; 

For foremost in danger the foe to repel, 

Iu the moment of conquest the conqueror fell. 

Slowly the victors return from the field, 

Lamenting the knight whom they bore on his shield ; 

And the Lady of Galtrim, as chronicles say, 

Was maid, wife and widow, and all in one day. 

Samuel Lover. 



13— OP REVENGE. 

Revenge is a kind of wild justice which the more man's 

nature runs to, the more 
ought law to weed it out ; 
for as for the first wrong, 
it doth but offend law, 
but the revenge of that 
wrong putteth law out 
of office. Certainly, in 
taking revenge a man is 
but even with his enemy, 
but in passing it over he 
is superior, for it is a 
prince's part to pardon ; 
and Solomon, I am sure, 
saith, "It is the glory of a man to pass by an offense." 

That which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men 
have enough to do with things present and to come ; therefore 
those do but trifle with themselves who labor in past matters. 
There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby 
to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like ; 
therefore why should I be angry with a man for loving him- 
self better than me? And if any man should do wrong merely 
out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or brier, which 
prick and scratch because they can do no other. 

The most tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which 




LORD BACON. 



THE DINNER AT FAYAL. 43 

there is no law to remedy ; but then let a man take heed the 
revenge be such as there is no law to punish, else a man's 
enemy is still beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when 
they take revenge, are desirous the party should know when 
it cometh. This is the more generous, for the delight seemeth 
to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party 
repent. But base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that 
flieth in the dark. Cosmus, duke of Florence, had a desperate 
saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those 
wrongs were unpardonable. " You shall read," said he, " that 
we are commanded to forgive our enemies, but you never read 
that we are commanded to forgive our friends." 

But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune. " Shall we," 
saith he, " take good at God's hands, and not be content to take 
evil also?" And so of friends in a proportion. This is cer- 
tain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds 
green which otherwise would heal and do well. Public revenges 
are for the most part fortunate, as that for the death of Csesar, 
for the death of Pertinax, for the death of Henry the Third 
of France, and many more. But in private revenges it is not 
so ; nay, rather vindictive persons live the life of witches, who 
as they are mischievous, so end they unfortunate. 

Lord Bacon, 1561-1626. 



14.— THE DINNER AT FAYAL. 

The Portuguese pennies or reis (pronounced rays) are pro- 
digious. It takes one thousand reis to make a dollar, and all 
financial estimates are made in reis. We did not know this 
until after we had found it out through Blucher. 

Blucher said he was so happy and so grateful to be on solid 
land once more that he wanted to give a feast — said he had 
heard it was a cheap land, and he was bound to have a grand 
banquet. He invited nine of us, and we ate an excellent din- 
ner at the principal hotel of Fayal. 

In the midst of the jollity produced by good cigars, good 
wine and passable anecdotes, the landlord presented his bill. 



44 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Blucher glanced at it, and his countenance fell. He took 
another look, to assure himself that his senses had not deceived 
him, and then read the items aloud, in a faltering voice, while 
the roses in his cheeks turned to ashes : 

" ' Ten dinners, at 600 reis, 6000 reis' ! Ruin and desolation ! 
'Twenty-five cigars, at 100 reis, 2500 reis'! O my sainted 
mother! 'Eleven bottles of wine, at 1200 reis, 13,200 reis'! 
Be with us all! 'Total, twenty-one thousand seven hundred 
reis' ! The suffering Moses ! There isn't money enough in the 
ship to pay that bill ! Go ! leave me to my misery, boys ; I 
am a ruined community." 

I think it was the blankest-looking party I ever saw. No- 
body could say a word. It was as if every soul had been 
stricken dumb. Wine-glasses descended slowly to the table, 
their contents untasted. Cigars dropped unnoticed from nerve- 
less fingers. Each man sought his neighbor's eye, but found 
in it no ray of hope, no encouragement. 

At last the fearful silence was broken. The shadow of a 
desperate resolve settled upon Blucher's countenance like a 
cloud, and he rose up and said, "Landlord, this is a low, mean 
swindle, and I'll never stand it. Here's a hundred and fifty 
dollars, sir, and it's all you'll get ; I'll swim in blood before I'll 
pay a cent more." 

Our spirits rose, and the landlord's fell — at least we thought 
so ; he was confused, at any rate, notwithstanding he had not 
understood a word that was said. H<* glanced from the little 
pile of gold pieces to Blucher several times, and then went out. 

He must have visited an American ; for when he returned, 
he brought back his bill translated into a language that a 
Christian could understand, thus : 



10 dinners, 6000 reis, or 
25 cigars, 2500 reis, or 

11 bottles wine, 13,200 reis, or 



Total, 21,700 reis, or . 
Happiness reigned once more in Blucher's dinner-party. 
More refreshments were ordered. Mark Twain. 



$6.00 

2.50 

13.20 

$21.70 



PLATONIC PARADOXES. 45 

15.— PLATONIC PARADOXES. 
I. 

In how many strange ways human nature displays 

The caprices that enter her pate, O ! 
To which view you'll be led if some pages you've read 

In the Oxford translation of Plato. 

What a wonderful writer is Plato ! 

And how well Jowett's pen can translate, O ! 
But I clearly discover, in reading him over, 

Some rather odd notions in Plato, 

Yes, very odd notions in Plato. 

ii. 

The fears of the brave make us always look grave, 

And the mean little tricks of the great, O! 
So the foolish things, too, that the wise say and do, 

Are ridiculous, even in Plato. 

On some points I quite go with Plato, 

In the same way as Addison's Cato, 
But some marvelous flaws as to justice and laws 

Mark the model Republic of Plato, 

The Republic according to Plato. 

in. 
Every honest man grieves at the number of thieves 

That our social temptations create, O ! 
And our hearts are all sore for the wretchedly poor, 
And I'm sure the same feelings had Plato. 
But the system propounded by Plato 
These deplorable ills to abate, O ! 
Was to break off with Mammon, have all things in common ! 
" Private property's gammon," said Plato ; 
" It all should be public," said Plato. 

IV. 

There of course is no theft, when no property's left 
To give Meum and Tuum their weight, O ! 



46 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

And when all's a dead level, starvation and revel 
Alike are excluded by Plato. 
These Communist doctrines of Plato 
Have again come in fashion of late, O ! 

But the makers of money, the hoarders of honey, 

Won't be pleased with these projects of Plato, 
These leveling projects of Plato. 

v. 

Then the struggles and strife that attend married life, 

And that often turn love into hate, O ! 
Its quarrelsome courses, desertions, divorces, 

Must have hurt the fine feelings of Plato. 
But a very bad cure proposed Plato 
(For I don't think him here the potato) — ■ 
The family tether Plato broke altogether. 

" The child is the State's," argued Plato, 
" It belongs to the public," said Plato. 

VI. 

No folks were to wed that were not thoroughbred, 

A very hard case to relate, O ! 
And if children appeared not quite fit to be reared, 

They were never acknowledged by Plato. 

'Twas a delicate question with Plato, 

Upon which he disliked to dilate, O ! 
But we all of us know where the puppy-dogs go 

When the litter's too many for Plato. 
" Let the fittest survive," counsels Plato. 

VII. 

On this question that vexes us as to the sexes 
Not long does our sage hesitate, O ! 

Women's duties and rights, whether beauties or frights, 
Are completely conceded by Plato. 
But the pace here adopted by Plato 
Seems to move at too rapid a rate, O ! 



MAN EVEN NOW A SPIRIT. 47 

All must go to the wars, and be servants of Mars, 
Both the women and men, under Plato, 
Yes, the women must fight, under Plato. 

VIII. 

On another small point he appears out of joint, 

For perhaps it admits of debate, O ! 
If philosophers solely should govern us wholly, 

Or our rulers be pupils of Plato. 

Suppose them as clever as Plato, 

How would Darwin or Mill rule the State, O ! 
Should you think Epicurus a good Palinurus, 

Or would Yankees be governed by Plato ? 

Imagine them, governed by Plato ! 

IX. 

A philosopher's schemes are made up of fond dreams 

And of idle Utopian prate, O ! 
For while Theory preaches, 'tis Practice that teaches, 

And corrects the wild crotchets of Plato. 

So the model Republic of Plato 

Must submit to the general fate, O! 
Lay the book on the shelf, and each man make himself 

What a Christian would wish for in Plato. 

Good-bye to the crotchets of Plato ! 



16.— MAN EVEN NOW A SPIRIT. 

Sweep away the illusions of time, compress the threescore 
years into three minutes, and what are we ourselves but ghosts ? 
A.re we not spirits that are shaped into a body, into an appear- 
ance ? This is no metaphor ; it is a simple scientific fact. We 
start out of nothingness, take figure, and are apparitions. 
Round us, as round the veriest spectre, is — eternity ! And to 
eternity minutes are as years and aeons. O Heaven ! It is 
mysterious, it is awful, to consider that we not only carry 



48 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

each a future ghost within him, but are in very deed ghosts. 
These limbs, whence had we them ? this stormy force, this life- 
blood, with its burning passion ? They are dust and shadow 
— a shadow-system gathered around our me, wherein through 
some moments or years the divine essence is to be revealed in 
the flesh. 

That warrior on his strong war-horse : fire flashes through 
his eyes, force dwells in his arms and heart ; but warrior and 
war-horse are a vision, a revealed force, nothing more. Stately 
they tread the earth as if it were a firm substance. Fools ! 
the earth is but a film ; it cracks in twain, and warrior and 
war-horse sink beyond plummet's sounding. Plummet's ! Fan- 
tasy herself will not follow them. A little while ago, and they 
were not ; a little while, and they are not ; their very ashes 
are not. So has it been from the beginning, so will it be to the 
end. Generation after generation takes to itself the form 
of a body, and forth issuing from Cimmerian night on Heaven's 
mission appears. What force and fire is in each he expends : 
one grinding in the mill of industry, one, hunter-like, climbing 
the giddy Alpine heights of science, one madly dashed in 
pieces on the rocks of strife in war with his fellow, and then 
the Heaven-sent is recalled, his earthly vesture falls away, 
and soon even to sense becomes a vanished shadow. 

Thus like wild-flaming, wild-thundering trains of Heaven's 
artillery does this mysterious mankind thunder and flame in 
long-drawn, quick-succeeding grandeur through the unknown 
deep. Earth's mountains are leveled and her seas filled up in 
our passage ; can the earth, which is but dead and a vision, 
resist spirits which have reality and are alive ? On the hard- 
est adamant some footprint of us is stamped in ; the last rear 
of the host will read traces of the earliest van. But whence ? 
O Heaven, whither? Sense knows not, faith knows not — 
only that it is through mystery to mystery, from God to God. 

Thomas CAP*LYLE,b. 1798, 



CHATHAM'S LAST SPEECH. 



49 




17.— CHATHAM'S LAST SPEECH. 

The most splendid passage in Chatham's public life was 
certainly the closing one, when, on the 7th of April, 1778, 
wasted by disease, but impelled by an overruling sense of duty, 
he repaired for the last time to the House of Lords. Totter- 
ing from weakness, he was supported on one side by his son-in- 
law, and on the other by his second son, William Pitt, soon to 
become, at the age of twenty-four, prime minister of England. 

Lord Chatham looked, as he was, a dying man ; yet never 
was seen a figure of more dignity. The lords stood up and 
made a lane for him to pass to his seat, whilst with that grace 
for which he was distinguished he bowed as he moved along. 
Taking his seat, he listened to Lord Weymouth's speech in 
defense of the American war ; and when his lordship had con- 
cluded, Chatham rose slowly and with difficulty, leaning on 
his crutches and supported by his two relatives. 

Taking one arm from its crutch, he raised his hand, and 
5 D 



50 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

looking toward heaven, said :* " I thank God that I have been 
enabled to come here this day to perform a duty and to speak 
on a subject which has so deeply impressed my mind. I am 
old and infirm, have one foot — more than one foot — in the 
grave ; I have risen from my bed to stand up in the cause of 
my country — perhaps never again to speak in this House. 

" My lords, I contend that we have not procured, nor can 
we procure, any force sufficient to subdue America ; it is mon- 
strous to think of it. The mode in which the war has been 
carried on has been the most bloody, barbarous and ferocious 
in the annals of mankind. We have sullied and tarnished 
the arms of Britain for ever by employing savages in our ser- 
vice, by drawing them up in a British line, and mingling the 
scalping-knife and tomahawk with the sword and firelock. 
Had it fallen to my lot to serve in an army where such crueky 
was practiced, I believe in my conscience that sooner than sub- 
mit to it I would have mutinied. 

" Withdraw the German bayonet and the Indian scalping- 
knife from America. The colonies must consider us as friends 
before they will ever consent to treat with us. A formal 
acknowledgment of our errors and a renunciation of our unjust, 
ill-founded and oppressive claims must precede every, the least 
attempt to conciliate. You cannot conciliate America by your 
present measures ; you cannot subdue her by your present or 
by any measures. 

" Ministers have been in error — experience has proved it ; 
and what is worse, in that error they persist. Instead of 
meanly truckling to every insult of French caprice and Span- 
ish punctilio, let us be reconciled with America. I rejoice 
that I am still alive to lift up my voice against the dismem- 
berment of this ancient monarchy. Shall we now fall pros- 
trate before the House of Bourbon ? Shall a people so lately 
the terror of the world now stoop so low as to tell its ancient, 

*To these remarks the duke of Richmond replied. Eager to answer 
him, Chatham tried to stand ; then, pressing his heart, he fell back in con- 
vulsions. The House, in great agitation, at once adjourned. The wood- 
cut we give is from the painting by Copley, commemorative of the scene. 
Chatham died May 11, 1778, aged 70. 



THE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT. 51 

inveterate enemy, 'Take all we have, only give us peace'? 
Impossible ! Where is the man who will dare to advise such 
a measure? I am not, I confess, well informed as to the 
resources of this kingdom ; but I trust it has still sufficient 
to maintain its just rights. Any state is better than despair. 
Let us at least make one effort ; and if we must fall, let us 
fall like men." 



18.— THE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT. 

The noble king of Brentford was old and very sick : 
He summoned his physicians to wait upon him quick ; 
They stepped into their coaches and brought their best iphy-sick'. 
They crammed their gracious master with potion and with pill, 
They drenched him and they bled him ; they could not cure 

his ill. 
" Go fetch," says he, " my lawyer ; I'd better make my will." 

The monarch's royal mandate the lawyer did obey; 
The thought of six-and-eightpence did make his heart full gay. 
"What is't," says he, "your Majesty would wish of me to-day?" 
" The doctors have belabored me with potion and with pill : 
My hours of life are counted, O man of tape and quill ! 
Sit down and mend a pen or two — I want to make my will. 

"O'er all the land of Brentford I'm lord, and eke of Kew: 

I've three per cents, and five per cents., my debts are but a few ; 

And to inherit after me I have but children two. 

Prince Thomas is my eldest son, a sober prince is he, 

And from the day we breeched him till now (he's twenty-three ) 

He never caused disquiet to his poor mamma or me. 

"He never owed a shilling, went never drunk to bed, 
He has not two ideas within his honest head ; 
In all respects he differs from my second son, Prince Ned. 
When Tom has half his income laid by at the year's end, 
Poor Ned has ne'er a stiver that rightly he may spend, 
But sponges on a tradesman or borrows from a friend. 



52 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

"While Tom his legal studies most soberly pursues, 

Poor Ned must pass his mornings a-dawdling with the Muse; 

While Tom frequents his banker, young Ned frequents the 

Jews. 
Ned drives about in buggies, Tom sometimes takes a 'bus. 
Ah, cruel Fate, why made you my children differ thus ? 
Why make Tom a dullard, and Ned a ge-ni-us ?" 

" You'll cut him with a shilling," exclaimed the man of wits. 
"I'll leave my wealth," said Brentford, "Sir Lawyer, as befits; 
And portion both their fortunes unto their several wits." 
"Your Grace knows best," the lawyer said, "on your commands 

I wait." 
"Be silent, sir," says Brentford; "a plague upon your prate! 
Come, take your pen and paper, and write as I dictate." 

The will as Brentford spoke it was writ and signed and closed ; 
He bade the lawyer leave him, and turned him round and 

dozed ; 
And next week in the churchyard the good old king reposed. 
Tom, dressed in crape and hatband, of mourners was the chief; 
In bitter self-upbraidings poor Edward showed his grief; 
Tom hid his fat white countenance in his pocket-handkerchief. 

Ned's eyes were full of weeping, he faltered in his walk ; 

Tom never shed a tear, but onward he did stalk, 

As pompous, black and solemn as any catafalque. 

And when the bones of Brentford — that gentle king and just — 

With bell and book and candle, were duly laid in dust, 

"Now, gentlemen," says Thomas, "let business be discussed. 

" When late our sire beloved was taken deadly ill, 

Sir Lawyer, you attended him (I mean to tax your bill) ; 

And as you signed and wrote it, I pr'ythee read the will." 

The lawyer wiped his spectacles, and drew the parchment out, 

And all the Brentford family sate eager round about; 

Poor Ned was somewhat anxious, but Tom had ne'er a doubt. 



THE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT 53 

"My son, as I make ready to seek my last long home, 
Some cares I had for Neddy, but none for thee, my Tom : 
Sobriety and order you ne'er departed from. 
Though small was your allowance, you saved a little store ; 
And those who save a little shall get a plenty more." 
As the lawyer read this compliment, Tom's eyes were running 
o'er. 

"The tortoise and the hare, Tom, set out, at each his pace; 
The hare it was the fleeter — the tortoise won the race ; 
And since the world's beginning this ever was the case. 
Thank Heaven, then, for the blinkers it placed before your eyes ; 
The stupidest are strongest, the witty are not wise; 
Oh, bless your good stupidity — it is your dearest prize ! 

"And though my lands are wide, and plenty is my gold, 

Still better gifts from Nature, my Thomas, do you hold : 

A brain that's thick and heavy, a heart that's dull and cold — 

Too dull to feel depression, too hard to heed distress, 

Too cold to yield to passion or silly tenderness. 

March on — your road is open to wealth, Tom, and success. 

" Ned sinneth in extravagance, and you in greedy lust " 
("F faith," says Ned, "our father is less polite than just"); 
" In you, son Tom, I've confidence, but Ned I cannot trust. 
Wherefore my lease and copyholds, my lands and tenements, 
My parks, my farms and orchards, my houses and my rents, 
My Dutch stock and my Spanish stock, my five and three per 
cents., — 

I leave to you, my Thomas" ("What, all?" poor Edward said; 
" Well, well, I should have spent them, and Tom's a prudent 

head")— 
"I leave to you, my Thomas — to you in trust for Ned." 
The wrath and consternation what poet e'er could trace 
That at this fatal passage came o'er Prince Tom his face— 
The wonder of the company, and honest Ned's amaze ! 



54 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

" "lis surely some mistake," good-naturedly cries Ned ; 
The lawyer answered gravely, " Tis even as I said ; 
'Twas thus his gracious Majesty ordained on his death -bed. 
See, here the will is witnessed, and here's his autograph !" 
" In truth, our father's writing," says Edward with a laugh ; 
"But thou shalt not be loser, Tom, we'll share it half and half." 

"Alas! my kind young gentleman, this sharing cannot be ; 
'Tis written in the testament that Brentford spoke to me, 
' I do forbid Prince Ned to give Prince Tom a halfpenny. 
He hath a store of money, but ne'er was known to lend it ; 
He never helped his brother ; the poor he ne'er befriended ; 
He hath no need of property who knows not how to spend it. 

" ' Poor Edward knows but how to spend, and thrifty Tom to 

hoard ; 
Let Thomas be the steward, then, and Edward be the lord ; 
And as the honest laborer is worthy his reward, 
I pray Prince Ned, my second son, and my successor dear, 
To pay to his intendant five hundred pounds a year, 
And to think of his old father, and live and make good cheer.' " 

Such was old Brentford's honest testament; 

He did devise his moneys for the best, 

And lies in Brentford church in peaceful rest. 
Prince Edward lived, and money made and spent ; 

But his good sire was wrong, it is confessed, 
To say his son, young Thomas, never lent. 

He did. Young Thomas lent at interest, 
And nobly took his twenty-five per cent. 

Long time the famous reign of Ned endured 

O'er Chiswick, Fulham, Brentford, Putney, Kew; 

But of extravagance he ne'er was cured. 
And when both died, as mortal men will do, 

'Twas commonly reported that the steward 
Was very much the richer of the two. 

W. M. Thackeray. 



THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. 



55 




MIRABEATJ SPEAKING FROM THE FRENCH TRIBUNE. 

19.— THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. 

When, during our session yesterday, those words which you 
have taught Frenchmen to unlearn — orders, privileges — fell on 
my ears ; when a private corporation of one of the provinces 
of this empire spoke to you of the impossibility of consenting 
to the execution of your decrees, sanctioned by the king ; when 
certain magistrates declared to you that their conscience and 
their honor forbade their. obedience to your laws, — I said to my- 
self, Are these, then, dethroned sovereigns who, in a transport 
of imprudent but generous pride, are addressing successful 
usurpers ? No, these are men whose arrogant pretensions have 



56 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

too long been an insult to all ideas of social order — champions, 
even more interested than audacious, of a system which has 
cost France centuries of oppression, public and private, polit- 
ical and fiscal, feudal and judicial, and whose hope it is to 
make us regret and revive that system. 

The people of Brittany have sent among you sixty-six repre- 
sentatives who assured you that the new constitution crowns all 
their wishes; and here come eleven judges of the province 
who cannot consent that you should be the benefactors of their 
country. They have disobeyed your laws, and they pride 
themselves on their disobedience and believe it will make their 
names honored by posterity. No, gentlemen, the remembrance of 
their folly will not pass to posterity. What avail their pigmy 
efforts to brace themselves against the progress of a revolution 
the grandest and most glorious in the world's history, and one 
that must infallibly change the face of the globe and the lot 
of humanity? Strange and silly presumption, that would 
arrest liberty in its course and roll back the destinies of a 
great nation ! 

It is not to antiquated transactions, it is not to musty treaties, 
wherein fraud combined with force to chain men to the car 
of certain haughty masters, that the National Assembly have 
resorted in their investigations into popular rights. The titles 
we offer are more imposing by far, ancient as time, sacred and 
imprescriptible as nature. What ! Must the terms of the 
marriage contract of one Anne of Brittany make the people 
slaves to the nobles till the consummation of the ages ? 

These refractory magistrates speak of the statutes which 
" immutably fix our powers of legislation." Immutably fix ! 
Oh how that word tears the veil from their innermost thoughts! 
How would they like to have abuses immutable upon the earth, 
and evil eternal ? Indeed, what is lacking to their felicity but 
the perpetuity of that feudal scourge which unhappily has 
lasted only six centuries t But it is in vain that they rage. 
All now is changed or changing. There is nothing immutable 
save reason — save the sovereignty of the people — save the in- 
violabilitv of its decrees ! 



THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. 57 

In all countries, in all ages have aristocrats implacably pur- 
sued the friends of the people ; and when, by I know not 
what combination of fortune, such a friend has uprisen 
from the very bosom of the aristocracy, it has been at him 
pre-eminently that they have struck, eager to iuspire wider 
terror by the elevation of their victim. So perished the last 
of the Gracchi by the hands of the patricians. But mortally 
smitten he flung dust toward heaven, calling the avenging 
gods to witness ; and from that dust sprang Marius — Marius, 
less illustrious for having exterminated the Cimbri than for 
having beaten down the despotism of the nobility in Rome. 

But you, commons, listen to one who, unseduced by your 
applauses, yet cherishes them in his heart. Man is strong only 
by union, happy only by peace. Be firm, not obstinate; 
courageous, not turbulent; free, not undisciplined; prompt, 
not precipitate. 

For myself, who, in my public career, have had no other fear 
but that of wrong-doing, who, girt with my conscience and 
armed with my principles, would brave the universe, be sure 
that the vain clamors, the wrathful menaces, the injurious pro- 
testations — all the convulsions, in a word, of expiring preju- 
dices — shall not on me impose. 

What! shall he now pause in his civic course who, first 
among all the men of France, emphatically proclaimed his 
opinions on national affairs at a time when circumstances were 
much less urgent than now, and the task one of much greater 
peril? Never ! No measure of outrages shall bear down my 
patience. I have been, I am, I shall be even to the tomb, the 
man of the public liberty, the man of the constitution. If to 
be such be to become the man of the people rather than of 
the nobles, then woe to the privileged orders ! For privileges 
shall have an end, but the people is eternal ! 

Mirabeau,* 1749-1791. 

* Victor Gabriel Riquette, marquis of Mirabeau, was one of the most 
remarkable characters of the early period of the first French revolution. 
In the French National Assembly members speak from a raised platform 
or pulpit called a tribune. The above translation is from Sargent's 
Standard Speaker. 



58 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



20.— LAISSEZ ALLER. 

No more words ! try it with your swords — 
Try it with the arms of your bravest and your best ! 
You are proud of your manhood, now put it to the test : 

Not another word ! try it by the sword. 

No more notes ! try it by the throats 
Of the cannon that will roar till the earth and air be shaken ; 
For they speak what they mean, and they cannot be mistaken ; 

No more doubt ! come — fight it out. 

No child's play ! waste not a day : 
Serve out the deadliest weapons that you know ; 
Let them pitilessly hail in the faces of the foe ; 

No blind strife ! waste not one life. 



You that in the front bear the battle's brunt, 
When the sun gleams at dawn on the bayonets abreast, 
Remember 'tis for country and for freedom you contest ; 

For love of all you guard, stand and strike hard. 

You at home that stay, from danger far away, 
Leave not a jot to chance, while you rest at quiet ease ; 
Quick forge the bolts of death ; quick ship them o'er the seas ; 

If war's feet are lame, yours will be the blame. 

You, my lads abroad, " Steady !" be your word ; 
You at home be the anchor of your soldiers, young and brave : 
Spare no cost, none is lost, that may strengthen or may save ; 

Sloth were sin and shame — now play out the game ! 

Franklin Lushington. 



PUBLIC OPINION AND THE SWORD. 59 

21.— PUBLIC OPINION AND THE SWORD. 
October 10, 1831. 

At the present moment I can see only one question in the 
State — the question of reform ; only two parties — the friends of 
the bill and its enemies. No observant and unprejudiced man 
can look forward, without great alarm, to frie effects which 
the recent decision of the lords 
may possibly produce. I do not 
predict, I do not expect, open, 
armed insurrection. What I ap- 
prehend is this — that the people 
may engage in a silent but exten- 
sive and persevering war against 
the law. It is easy to say, " Be 
bold ; be firm ; defy intimida- 
tion ; let the laAV have its course ; 
the law is strong enough to put 
down the seditious." Sir, we have 
heard this blustering before ; and 
we know in Avhat it ended. It is macaulay. 

the blustering of little men whose lot has fallen on a great 
crisis. Xerxes scourging the waves, Canute commanding the 
waves to recede from his footstool, were but types of the folly. 

The law has no eyes ; the law T has no hands ; the law is 
nothing — nothing but a piece of paper printed by the king's 
printer, with the king's arms at the top — till public opinion 
breathes the breath of life into the dead letter. We found 
this in Ireland. The elections of 1828 — the Clare election, 
two years later — proved the folly of those who think that 
nations are governed by wax and parchment ; and, at length, 
in the close of 1828, the government had only one plain alter- 
native before it — concession or civil war. 

I know of only two ways in which societies can permanently 
be governed — by public opinion and by the sword. A gov- 
ernment having at its command the armies, the fleets and the 
revenues of Great Britain, might possibly hold Ireland by the 
sword. So Oliver Cromwell held Ireland; so William the 




60 OXFORD 'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Third held it ; so Mr. Pitt held it ; so the duke of Wellington 
might, perhaps, have held it. But to govern Great Britain 
by the sword ! So wild a thought has never, I will venture to 
say, occurred to any public man of any party ; and if any man 
were frantic enough to make the attempt, he would find, before 
three days had expired, that there is no better sword than 
that which is fashioned out of a plowshare ! 

But if not by the sword, how is the people to be governed ? 
I understand how the peace is kept at New York. It is by the 
assent and support of the people. I understand, also, how the 
peace is kept at Milan. It is by the bayonet of the Austrian 
soldier. But how the peace is to be kept when you have 
neither the popular assent nor the military force — how the 
peace is to be kept in England by a government acting on the 
principles of the present opposition — I do not understand. 

Sir, we read that in old times, when the villeins were driven 
to revolt by oppression — when the castles of the nobility were 
burned to the ground — when the warehouses of London were 
pillaged — when a hundred thousand insurgents appeared in 
arms on Blackheath — when a foul murder, perpetrated in their 
presence, had raised their passions to madness — when they were 
looking around for some captain to succeed and avenge him 
whom they had lost, — just then, before Hob Miller, or Tom 
Carter, or Jack Straw, could place himself at their head, the 
king rode up to them and exclaimed, "I will be your leader!" 
And at once the infuriated multitude laid down their arms, 
submitted to his guidance, dispersed at his command. Herein 
let us imitate him. Let us say to the people, " We are your 
leaders — we, your own House of Commons." This tone it is 
our interest and our duty to take. The circumstances admit 
of no delay. Even while I speak, the moments are passing 
away — the irrevocable moments pregnant with the destiny of a 
great people. The country is in danger ; it may be saved : we 
can save it. This is the way — this is the time. In our hands 
are the issues of great good and great evil — the issues of the 
life and death of the State ! 

Macaulay, 1800-1859. 



IMPRESSMENT OF AN AMERICAN SEAMAN. 61 



22.— IMPRESSMENT OP AN AMERICAN SEAMAN." 

Characters — Capt. Martinet, Lieut. Perley, Hiram Handy, Capt. Jotham 

Luff. 

Enter Capt. Martinet and Lieut. Perley, meeting. 

Capt. Martinet. Well, lieutenant, how does the prisoner 
bear his sentence ? 

Lieut. Perley. Stiffly and stubbornly, sir. He sticks to the 
assertion that he is a Yankee. 

Capt. M. Yankee or Yahoo, he will have to swing at the 
yard-arm for mutiny in striking his commanding officer. The 
rascal hit me full in the face. 

IAeut. P. Will it not be rather awkward, sir, if it should 
turn out that he is an American ? 

Capt. M. Of course he is an American — a regular Down- 
easter. You can tell it by his talking through his nose. But 
what do I care for that ? 

Lieut. P. We are on the verge of a war with the United 
States ; this may help it on. 

Capt. M. Let it come. What are we to do ? We must have 
seamen. The law tells us we may take them by impressment. 
The Yankee ships are manned more than half by British sea- 
men. We must board the Yankee ships to get the men we 
want. If, now and then, we impress a Yankee instead of a 
British subject, is that any reason why we should suffer the 
Yankee to break the first law of the service and strike his 
commander ? No ! Get ready the yard-arm, lieutenant. The 
fellow must swing for it. 

Lieut. P. Ay, ay, sir. I will see that everything is ready. 

Capt. M. Send the prisoner to me. 

Lieut. P. Ay, ay, sir. \Exit.~\ 

Capt. M. British subject or not, he put his dirty fist in my 
face. He has been tried by a court-martial and convicted, and 
it shall not be my fault if he is not punished. 

* An incident similar to that represented in the dialogue actually hap- 
pened in the British Channel during the last war with Great Britain. 
6 



62 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

[Enter Hiram, with his arms pinioned.'] 

Hiram. I was told you wished to see me. 

Capt. M. Well, prisoner, what have you to say for yourself? 
You have had a fair trial, and been convicted of mutiny. The 
penalty is death by hanging at the yard-arm. The ceremony 
is fixed for this afternoon. Have you any objection to make ? 

Hiram. Objection ? Yes, the objection that the murderer's 
victim makes to the murderer's blow. You know in your 
heart that it will be murder. 

Capt. M. What do you mean ? 

Hiram. I mean that I am not a British subject, and you 
know it. What right had you to take me out of an American 
vessel ? 

Capt. M. The right that British law and British power give 
us to seize and impress a British seaman wherever we can find 
one, on the high seas or elsewhere. 

Hiram. But I am not a British seaman. I am a native-born 
American. Defend your claim to touch me if you can. 

Capt. M. We find we cannot distinguish between English 
and Americans. If we took the word of every sailor who 
claims to be an American, we couldn't get enough for our ships. 
So it is a case of necessity, you see. Your true way was to 
keep quiet, and not turn mutineer. 

Hiram. What if you were seized by an American press-gang 
and placed on board an American ship, and what if, in trying 
to escape, you should strike an officer, and be sentenced to 
death ? would not those who took your life for the act be rightly 
called murderers ? 

Capt. M. Prisoner, I do not choose to argue with you. If 
you have fallen under our laws — 

Hiram. Fallen under your laws ? I was forced — forced from 
my own ship on the high seas. Your plea is the pirate's plea. 

Capt. M. Prisoner, the subordinate who strikes me must die 
either by my own hand or that of the law. 

Hiram. I understand you now. You are more anxious to 
revenge your personal dignity than to punish a public wrong. 
But do not be too sure. There is many a slip between the cup 



IMPRESSMENT OE AN AMERICAN SEAMAN. 63 

and the lip. The diversion you have promised yourself for 
this afternoon will not come off. 

Capt. 31. If I live, you shall be strung up at the yard-arm 
this day. 

Hiram. You think so, but you will be disappointed. 

Capt, M. "What is to prevent it, here on my own ship, with 
my own crew ? 

Hiram. As I left the deck just now I saw a little sail-boat 
coming this way. Jotham was at the helm. 

Capt. 31. And who is Jotham ? 

Hiram. You know him; Captain Jotham Luff, of the 
American brig Nancy, my captain, from whom your press- 
gang forced me. 

Capt. 31. I told that impudent fellow not to come near me 
again. What will he do? 

Hiram. I don't know. I only know he'll do something. He 
would never dare to go back to Marblehead and say that he 
had left me to be struog up at the yard-arm of a British frigate. 
The women would tar and feather him, and drag him in a cart 
as they did old Floyd Ireson. 

Capt. 31. The execution shall take place at once. 

Hiram. You are too late. I hear Captain Jotham's step on 
the deck. Here he comes. 

[Enter Captain Jotham Luff.] 

Jotham. How are you, captain? Middling well, I hope. 
Well, Hiram, my boy, they have trussed you up like a turkey 
for the spit. [ Takes out jack-knife, cuts cords and frees Hiram.] 
There, captain ; it looked so uncomfortable, I couldn't help it. 

Capt. 31. [shaking his fist]. You impudent Yankee! I'll 
have you keel-hauled, you — 

Jotham. Come, now, don't blaze away in that style ! Where's 
the harm ? You aren't afraid, are you, of Hiram and me ? 

Capt, 31. What's the object of this visit? 

Jotham. To take Hiram back with me. 

Capt. 31. I told you yesterday that no power on earth could 
save him from being hung. So leave this ship, or I will call 
those who will put you into your boat by force. 



64 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Jotham. I reckon you'll do no such thing. I reckon you'll 
hear what I have to say, and then do what I tell you to. Sit 
down and make yourself at home. [$ife.] Sit down, Hiram. 
[Hiram sits.'] 

Capt. M. [standing]. Well, there's no impudence like that 
of a Yankee. 

Jotham [whittling the stick that Hiram was pinioned by]. You 
must know, captain, that when 1 left you yesterday I was 
almost as mad as you are now — pretty badly roiled up. When 
I got on board my brig, whom should I find there but two 
lords — Lord Pembroke and Lord Annesley — who had been out 
in a sail-boat, and had stopped to take a look at my vessel. 
Perhaps you know them ? 

Capt. M. Yes ; one of them is my nephew. 

Jotham. Well, it occurred to me at once that two lords were 
about a fair exchange for an American sailor ; so I impressed 
them. 

Capt. M. Impressed them ! What do you mean ? 

Jotham [rising]. Don't you know what impressment is? 
When you force a man into your service against his Avill, that's 
impressment. Do you think we Americans are going to stand 
that? Never! War, first, to the hilt. We are ready for you; 
the whole country is eager to wipe out the disgrace, and war 
will come. Let it come. 

Capt. M. What have you done to their lordships ? 

Jotham, Treated them precisely as you have been treating 
Hiram here. 

Capt. M. Rascal! Scoundrel! 

Jotham, Keep cool ! It's a fact. I put a stick through their 
elbows, and trussed them up just as you had Hiram, kept 
them on bread and water, and this afternoon, if I don't pre- 
vent it, they will both be hung at the yard-arm of the Nancy. 

Capt. M. Hung ! Your proof of this ? 

Jotham [producing a letter]. There's the proof, in a letter 
from their lordships. Read it. You know the handwriting ? 

Capt. M. [reading aloud]. "The Yankee will do what he 
threatens. Be sure of that. His vessel is a fast saiJer, and 



IMPRESSMENT OF AN AMERICAN SEAMEN. 65 



can not be overtaken. Grant all he asks, if you would save 
our lives. Yours, Annesley, Pembroke." Villain ! Do you 
mean to say you would hang two noblemen within sight of the 
English coast? 

Jotham. I do mean to say just that. Touch a hair of that 
lad's head, and before sundown they shall die like dogs. 

Capt. M. What if I seize your person as a security for 
their lives ? You didn't think of that — eh ? 

Jotham. Oh, but I did! That was my risk. I left their 
lordships in the hands of my mate, Persevere Peabody, who has 
orders to hang them, in case I don't send him a signal from 
your vessel before five o'clock not to do it. [Shoivs his watch,'] 
It's after four already, captain. 

Capt. M. Your mate will not dare to touch a hair of their 
heads ! 

Jotham. Oh, you don't know Persevere Peabody. Says he, 
as I was leaving, " Captain Jotham," says he, " I never hung 
a lord in all my life ; but never fear, I'll do it in a style that 
shall be an eternal credit to the American eagle." And will 
you believe it ? — the rogue, when he thought I wasn't looking, 
put the clock half an hour ahead, that he might have an 
excuse for finishing the job the sooner. The critter set the 
steward to work on some old black silk neckerchiefs. Says I, 
" What's all this for, Persevere ? " Says he, " Their lordships 
will need black caps to be hung in. I mean to do everything 
regular, captain." Oh, he is a terrible fellow, is Persevere 
Peabody. 

Capt, M. [alarmed]. Did you say he put the clock half 
an hour ahead ? Then he may be about it now. 

Jotham. That's a fact. 

Capt. M. What's your signal for stopping this barbarity ? 

Jotham. That's my secret. I'm not such a simpleton as to 
tell you that before I have made all right. 

Capt, M. Name your terms quickly. 

Jotham. First, Hiram's release, and a safe return for him 
and me to our vessel. 

Capt, M. Never ! I'll never consent. 



66 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Jotham. Yes, you will. Second, ten guineas to Hiram, by- 
way of damages. 

Capt. M. I'll sink my ship first ! 

Jotham. No, you'll not. Third, and last, a hundred 
guineas for me, for losses by detention of my brig in waiting 
for Hiram. 

Capt. M. Do your worst ! I'll never agree to such terms. 

Jotham. Yes, you will. 

Capt. M. Not till I am struck idiotic, 

Jotham. Yes, you will. 

Hiram. Never mind the ten guineas^ Captain Jotham. 

Jotham. Hold your tongue, Hiram; I'll not bate a far- 
thing. 

{Re-enter Lieut. Pekley.] 

Lieut. P. The Yankee ship in the offing, sir, is firing minute- 
guns. 

Jotham. All right. 

Capt. M. What does it mean? 

Jotham. It means that Captain Persevere Peabody is mak- 
ing all ready to hang the two lords we impressed yesterday. 

Capt. M. Stop him at once, or I'll have you put to the 
torture. 

Jotham. You have my terms, captain. I can't budge, let 
the British lion roar ever so loud. 

Capt. M. What shall I do, Perley ? 

Lieut. P. The Yankee has proved too clever for us. My 
advice to you is to knock under at once. 

Capt. M. Confound the extortionate, tobacco-chewing, 
psalm-singing trickster ! 

Lieut. P. Should any harm come to their lordships, you will 
be severely censured. 

Capt. M. Too true. [ To Jotham.'] Look you, sir, I accept 
your terms. 

Jotham. A safe return for Hiram and me ; ten guineas for 
Hiram ; a hundred guineas for me. 

Capt. M. Yes, yes, yes. 

Jotham. You hear, lieutenant? 



ITALY. 67 



Capt. 31. The pledge is given. There is no escape from 
it. The word of a British officer is as good as his bond. 

Jotham. Then take the American flag out of my boat and 
run it up to your fore peak. Persevere Peabody will be dis- 
appointed, but he'll not dare to disobey. 

Lieut. P. I'll have it done. [Exit.'] 

Jotham. Now, captain, you'll sleep better, and feel better 
all the rest of your life, to think you've been saved from put- 
ting a fellow-creature to death. What would have been your 
reflections — 

Capt. M. Stop your palaver, and come and get your 
money. [Exit.'] 

Jotham. Well, Hiram, it will not turn out a bad specula- 
tion, after all. 

Hiram. Better than my last whaling voyage, captain. 

Jotham. Hurrah for our side ! Hurrah for free trade and 
sailors' rights ! 

Hiram. Just my sentiments, captain. Hurrah ! 

Sargent. 

23.— ITALY. 

Voices from the mountains speak, 

Apennines to Alps reply, 
Vale to vale and peak to peak 

Toss an old remembered cry — 
Italy shall be free ! 

Such the mighty shout that fills 

All the passes of her hills. 

All the old Italian lakes 

Quiver at that wakening word ; 
Como with a thrill awakes, 

Garda to her depths is stirred ; 

'Mid the steeps where he sleeps, 

Dreaming of the elder years, 

Startled Thrasymenus hears. 



68 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Sweeping Arno, swelling Po, 

Murmur freedom to their meads. 

Tiber swift and Liris slow 

Send strange whispers from their reeds. 

Italy shall be free ! 
Sing the glittering brooks that glide 
Toward the sea from Etna's side. 

Long ago was Gracchus slain, 

Brutus perished long ago, 
Yet the living roots remain 

Whence the shoots of greatness grow. 
Yet again god-like men, 

Sprung from that heroic stem, 

Call the land to rise with them. 

They who haunt the swarming street, 
They who chase the mountain boar, 

Or where cliff* and billow meet 
Prune the vine or pull the oar, 

With a stroke break their yoke ; 
Slaves but yester eve were they — 
Freemen with the dawning day. 

Looking in his children's eyes, 

While his own with gladness flash, 
" These," the Umbrian father cries, 
" Ne'er shall crouch beneath the lash ! 
These shall ne'er brook to wear 
Chains whose cruel links are twined 
Round the crushed and withering mind.' 

Monarchs ! ye whose armies stand 
Harnessed for the battle-field, 

Pause, and from the lifted hand 
Drop the bolts of war ye wield ; 
Stand aloof, while the proof 
Of the people's might is given: 
Leave their kings to them and Heaven. 



NATIONAL ARMAMENTS. 69 

Stand aloof, and see the oppressed 

Chase the oppressor, pale with fear, 
As the fresh winds of the west 
Blow the misty valleys clear. 

Stand and see Italy 
Cast the gyves she wears no more 
To the gulfs that steep her shore. 

W. C. Bryant, b. 1798. 

24.— NATIONAL ARMAMENTS (1849). 

Other nations, be assured, gentlemen, are far too intelligent 
to require that we should always be armed to the teeth in order 
to let them know how strong we are. Take the case of the 
United States. America has three times within the last few 
years had a misunderstanding with two of the greatest 
powers of the world — twice with England, once with France. 
We had the Maine boundary and the Oregon Territory ques- 
tions to settle with the United States, and America had her 
quarrel with France, growing out of a claim for compensation 
of one million pounds sterling which the French government 
refused to pay. What was the issue of those controversies ? 
When the claim was refused by France, General Jackson, then 
the head of the American government, published his declara- 
tion that if the money was not paid forthwith, he would seize 
French ships and pay himself. 

At that time — I have it from Americans themselves — the 
French had three times the force of ships-of-war the Ameri- 
cans had. Admiral Mackau was in the Gulf of Florida with 
a. fleet large enough to ravage the whole coast of America and 
bombard her towns, but did France rush into a war with 
America? She paid the money. Why? Because she knew 
well, if she provoked an unjust war with the United States, 
their men-of-war were nothing compared with the force that 
would swarm out of every American port when brought into 
collision with another country. France knew that America 
had the larger mercantile marine ; and though at first the bat- 



70 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

tie might be to the stronger in an armed fleet, in the end it 
would be to that country which had the greater amount of 
public spirit and the greater number of mercantile ships and 
sailors. 

What was the case with England? In 1842 there was a 
talk of war with America on account of the Maine boundary 
question. Bear in mind that America never spent more than 
one million two hundred thousand pounds sterling on her navy 
in any year of peace previous to 1842. We are spending this 
year seven millions or eight millions ; but will anybody tell 
me that America fared worse in that dispute because her re- 
sources in ships-of-war were far inferior to ours ? No, but we 
increased our navy, and we had a squadron of evolution, as it 
was called. America never mounted a gun at New York to 
prevent the bombardment of the city, but did she fare the 
worse? We sent a peer of the realm (Lord Ashburton) to 
Washington ; it was on American soil that the quarrel was 
adjusted, and rumor does say the Americans made a very good 
bargain. It is the spirit of a people, the prosperity of a peo- 
ple, the growing strength, the union, the determination of a 
people, that command respect. 

Kichard Cobden, 1804-1865. 



25.— ABSOLUTISM AND REPUBLICANISM. 

Mr. Carlyle holds that the great object in government is 
that the people should be well governed, good laws passed with 
good sanctions, good roads and bridges made, good schools 
established, good connections formed with foreign countries, 
good measures taken for war and for peace — in short, that 
things should be well done for the people, so that the people 
should be thoroughly and effectually governed. Now, this 
requires that the best man should be made governor ; and the 
king, the true king, according to Carlyle's derivation, is the 
" canning " or able man, the " cunning " or knowing man ; he 
it is whom the Saxons called eyning, or king ; he is de jure the 
king, the sovereign, of his people. Gifted with faculty to dis- 



ABSOLUTISM AND REPUBLICANISM. 71 

cern what is best for the people, and with commanding energy 
to execute what he discerns to be best, it is his right to rule ; 
it is the duty of others to obey ; and the more implicit and 
submissive the obedience, the better. 

This is the political creed of a man who deifies power, and, 
above all, power of will; who does not scruple to say that 
ever in this world might is right in the long run — a principle 
which has, however, its relation to truth. 

That Carlyle should deride republicanism, and especially 
democracy, is a natural consequence of this way of thinking. 
But in his scheme there are two fatal deficiencies ; he provides 
no answer for these two momentous questions : 

First, how we are to ascertain this canning, cunning man 
who is to be our king ? — if without previous trial, by what 
criteria? if with trial, by what system that shall afford fair 
field for all competitors ? Secondly, how we are to shift in the 
mean time, how we are to get along, if he does not exist, until 
he does ? or if he does exist unknown to us, how we are to get 
along until we know him ? 

But the theory of Carlyle, like all absolutist theories, 
has another deeper and more fatal deficiency. It assumes that 
the good of a government lies only in its ends, its acts, laws, 
measures and so on, and that when these are given it matters 
little by w T hat means they come about, only the simpler and 
more effectual the means, the better. 

An absolute government may provide as well as a republic 
for the material wants and interests of the people, but the 
absolute government holds them in tutelage, and calls them 
and keeps them children ; the republic holds them in partner- 
ship, treats them as men, and makes them men. If I am a dem- 
ocrat, it is on this ground ; not because a democracy is the safest, 
strongest, quickest government, but because it is the manliest 
— it is a gymnasium for making men, strong-minded, vigorous, 
active men. This gymnastic training has its dangers, its pecu- 
liar difficulties and embarrassments, but the advantages are 
more than worth the risks. 

James Hadley, 1820-1872. 



72 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




26.— THE RAVEN. 



Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door. 
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber-door; 
Only this and nothing more." 

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow ; vainly I had sought to borrow 
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, 
Nameless here for evermore. 

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating. 
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door, 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door ; 
That it is, and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, 
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 



THE RAVEN. 73 



And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you — " Here I opened wide the door. 
Darkness there, and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, 

fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, " Lenore !" 
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word " Lexore !" 
Merely this, and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before. 
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice, 
Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore — 
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore ! 
'Tis the wind, and nothing more." 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. 
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he, 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber-door — 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber-door — 
Perched and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling 

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 

" Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure 

no craven; 
Ghastly, grim and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore, 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore." 
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " 

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy, bore ; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber-door — 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust upon his chamber-door — 
With such a name as " Nevermore ! " 

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 

7 



74 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Nothing further then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered — 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown 

before ; 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." 
Then the bird said, "Nevermore!" 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
" Doubtless," said I, " what it utters is its only stock and store, 
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster 
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore — 
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore — 
Of Never — nevermore ! " 

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and 

door. 
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore — 
Meant in croaking " Nevermore ! " 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core. 
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, 
But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamplight gloating o'er, 
She shall press — ah ! nevermore ! 

Then meth ought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen 

censer, 
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
" Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he 

hath sent thee — 
Kespite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 
Quaff, oh, quaflf this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore ! " 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" 

"Prophet," said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil — 
Whether tempter sent or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, 
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — 
In this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore ! 
Is there — is there balm in Gilead ? — tell me — tell me, I implore ! " 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore ! " 



ANCIENT AND MODERN ORATORY. 75 

"Prophet," said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil — 
By that heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, 
Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore ; 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore! " 
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " 

" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shrieked 

upstarting — 
" Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken ! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my door ! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my 

door ! " 

Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " 

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the 

floor ; 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
Shall be lifted — nevermore ! 

Edgar A. Poe, 1811-1849. 



27.— ANCIENT AND MODERN ORATORY. 

Is ancient eloquence superior to modern ? There is a pre- 
liminary point to settle, and that is the standard of excellence. 
What are we to look at — is it elegance, is it feeling, is it pas- 
sion, is it argument, is it logic or rhetoric, or all combined ? 
Some have a simple test, and that is persuasiveness ; the best 
oration is the most persuasive, and, vice versa, the most persua- 
sive is the best, for it best fulfills the end of eloquence, which 
is persuasion. 

But there is another element of great importance which 
may vary much in orations equally persuasive, and that is 
artistic perfection, aptness to satisfy the aesthetic sense, the 
critical faculty in man. An oration may be regarded as a 
work of art, and subject more or less to the predicates sym- 



76 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

metrical, perfect, beautiful, or the reverse. Indeed, no culti- 
vated mind can help taking this view. He who has taste — 
that is, the critical faculty which judges of form — must be 
shocked with what is out of taste, must admire that which 
good taste recommends and sanctions. 

Now, it is precisely here that I would take my stand. In 
everything else — in vehemence of passion, in depth of feeling, 
in cogency of argument, in attractiveness of persuasion — I 
admit that the moderns have shown themselves not inferior to 
the ancients. But in finish and perfection, in symmetry and 
beauty of outward form, I bow to the superiority of the ancient 
masters. I regard the orations of Demosthenes as not only 
unsurpassed, but as unrivaled specimens of oratoric art. 

And now, having pronounced this opinion, if you ask me why, 
why this was so, why an old Athenian should have borne away 
from all the world the prize of art in oratory, I cannot say, I can- 
not satisfy your curiosity. I do not ascribe it to a genial climate 
or a productive soil, to successful wars with foreigu powers or 
noble struggles for national independence, nor to agricultural, 
mechanical, professional, political activity, nor to democratic 
institutions, to annual magistracies, to vote by ballot or by 
bean. I do not deny that these things had their influence, as 
furnishing field and opportunity and encouragement to intel- 
lectual development. But that matchless ozsthe'sis of the 
Greeks, that unrivaled taste, that wonderful sense of beauty 
and harmony and proportion — where that came from is more 
than I can tell ; I greatly doubt whether it is in any proper 
sense the creature of external circumstances. 

I hold, then, that the same causes which made a Homer the 
first of epic poets, and a Phidias the first of sculptors, and a 
Pindar the first of lyric bards, and the builder of the Parthe- 
non the first of architects — the same causes rendered Demos- 
thenes the first of orators. Only let the circumstances offer 
fair occasion, and the nation which has the keenest and truest 
sense of the beautiful and the perfect will present the highest 
master-works of art. 

Every oration of Demosthenes is, to my mind, a heroic ex- 



PUFFING IN LITERATURE. 77 

hibition of self-denial. So many graces of style and felicities 
of expression, so many details, sublime, pathetic, brilliant, must 
have occurred to his rich and copious mind, which ever and 
anon shows, when such things are necessary, that there was no 
lack of power to originate them, and yet, in general, he rigor- 
ously rejects them, and if he ever employs them, employs 
them most sparingly. Everywhere he sacrifices the part to 
the whole, beauty of detail to general effect ; and so he holds 
on in his severe simplicity, rarely allowing any embellishment, 
just as the architect decorates only the capitals of his columns 
or the cornice of his roof, trusting to the grand and stately 
proportions of the completed edifice. How different all this 
from the general character of modern oratory, and, above all, 
of American oratory, I need not say. 

James Hadley, 1820-1872. 



28.— PUFFING IN LITERATURE. ^ 

A pious Brahmin, it is written, made a vow that on a cer- 
tain day he would sacrifice a sheep, and on the appointed 
morning he went forth to buy one. There lived in his neigh- 
borhood three rogues who knew of his vow, and laid a scheme 
for profiting by it. They first met him, and said, " O Brah- 
min, wilt thou buy a sheep? I have one fit for sacrifice." 
" It is for that very purpose," said the holy man, " that I came 
forth this day." 

r l hen the impostor opened a bag, and brought out of it an 
unclean beast, an ugly dog, lame and blind. Thereon the 
Brahmin cried out, " Wretch, who touchest things impure, 
and utterest things untrue, callest thou that cur a sheep?" 
" Truly," answered the other, " it is a sheep of the finest fleece 
and of the sweetest flesh. O Brahmin, it will be an offering 
most acceptable to the gods." " Friend," said the Brahmin, 
" either thou or I must be blind." Just then one of the 

*The above extract is from a severe criticism on the poems of Mr. 
Robert Montgomery, originally published in the Edinburgh Review of 
1830. 

7* 



78 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

accomplices came up. "Praised be the gods," said this second 
rogue, " that I have been saved the trouble of going to the 
market for a sheep ! This is such a sheep as I wanted. For 
how much wilt thou sell it ? " When the Brahmin heard this, 
his mind waved to and fro, like one swinging in the air at a 
holy festival. " Sir," said he to the new-comer, " take heed 
what thou dost ; this is no sheep, but an unclean cur." " O 
Brahmin," said the new-comer, " thou art drunk or mad." 

At this time the third confederate drew near. " Let us ask 
this man," said the Brahmin, " what the creature is, and I will 
stand by what he shall say." To this the others agreed, and 
the Brahmin called out, " O stranger, what dost thou call this 
beast?" " Surely, O Brahmin," said the knave, "it is a fine 
sheep." Then the Brahmin said, " Surely the gods have taken 
away my senses ;" and he asked pardon of him who carried 
the dog, and bought it for a measure of rice and a pot of ghee, 
and offered it up to the gods, who, being wroth at this unclean 
sacrifice, smote him with a sore disease in all his joints. 

Thus, or nearly thus, if we remember rightly, runs the story 
of the Sanscrit ^Esop. The moral, like the moral of every 
fable that is worth the telling, lies on the surface. The writer 
evidently means to caution us against the practices of puffers 
— a class of people who have more than once talked the pub- 
lic into the most absurd errors. 

Macaulay (see p. 59). 

29.— TRIAL OF ROARING RALPH. 

Roaeing Ralph was one day arraigned before a county 
court in Kentucky on a charge of horse-stealing. Matters 
were going hard against him. His many offenses in that line 
had steeled against him the hearts of all. The proofs of guilt 
in this particular instance were both strong and manifold- 
Many an angry and unpitying eye was bent upon the unfor- 
tunate fellow when his counsel rose to attempt a defense. This 
he did in the following terms : 

"Gentlemen of the jury," said the man of law, "here is a 



TRIAL OF ROARING RALPH. 



man, Captain Kalph Stackpole, indicted before you on the 
charge of stealing a horse, and the affair is pretty considerably 
proved on him." Here there was a murmur heard throughout 
the court, evincing much approbation of the counsel's frank- 
ness. "Gentlemen of the jury," continued the orator, elevat- 
ing his voice, " what I have to say in reply is, first, that that 
man thar', Captain Ralph Stackpole, did, in the year seven- 
teen seventy-nine, when this good State of Kentucky, and par- 
ticularly these parts adjacent to Bear's Grass and the mouth 
thereof, where now stands the town of Louisville, were overrun 
with yelping Injun savages, — did, I say, gentlemen, meet two 
Injun savages in the woods on Bear's Grass, and take their 
scalps, single-handed — a feat, gentlemen of the jury, that an't 
to be performed every day, even in Keutucky !" 

Here there was considerable tumult in the court, and several 
persons began to swear. " Secondly, gentlemen of the jury," 
exclaimed the attorney-at-law, with a still louder voice, " what 
I have to say secondly, gentlemen of the jury, is that this same 
identical prisoner at the bar, Captain Ralph Stackpole, did on 
another occasion, in the year seventeen eighty-two, meet another 
Injun savage in the woods — a savage armed with rifle, knife 
and tomahawk — met him with — you suppose, gentlemen, with 
gun, axe and scalper, in like manner ? No, gentlemen of the 
jury ! with his fists, and " (with a voice of thunder) " licked 
him to death in the natural way! Gentlemen of the jury, pass 
upon the prisoner — guilty, or not guilty ?" 

The attorney resumed his seat ; his arguments were irresist- 
ible. The jurors started up in their box and roared out to a 
man, "Not guilty /" From that moment, it may be supposed, 
Roaring Ralph could steal horses at his pleasure. Neverthe- 
less, it seems, he immediately lost his appetite for horseflesh ; 
and leaving the land altogether, he betook himself to a more 
congenial element, launched his broad-horn on the narrow 
bosom of the Salt, and was soon afterward transformed into 
a Mississippi alligator, in which amphibious condition, we 
presume, he roared on till the day of his death. 

Robert Bird, 1803-1854. 



80 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




30.— TO MY HORSE. 

Come forth, my brave steed, the sun shines on the vale, 
And the morning is bearing its balm on the gale ; 
Come forth, my brave steed, and brush off as we pass, 
With the hoofs of thy speed, the bright dew from the grass ! 

Let the lover go warble his strains to the fair — 
I regard not his rapture, and heed not his care ; 
But now, as we bound o'er the mountain and lea, 
I will weave, my brave steed, a wild measure for thee. 

Away and away ! I exult in the glow 
Which is breathing its pride on my cheek as w T e go ; 
And blithely my spirit springs forth as the air 
Which is waving the mane of thy dark flowing hair. 

Hail, thou gladness of heart and thou freshness of soul 
Which have never come o'er me in pleasure's control ; 
Which the dance and the revel, the bowl and the board, 
Though they flushed and they fevered, could never afford. 

In the splendor of solitude speed we along 

Through the silence but broke by the wild linnet's song ; 

Not a sight to the eye, not a sound to the ear, 

To tell us that sin and that sorrow are near. 



MR. PUFF'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 81 

Away, and away, and away, then, we pass ! 
The mole shall not hear thy light hoof on the grass ; 
Oh the time Avhich is flying whilst I am with thee 
Seems as swift as thyself as we bound o'er the lea ! 

Lord Lytton (Bulwer), 1807-1873. 



31.— MR. PUFF'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 

Sir, I make no secrets of the trade I follow. Among friends 
and brother authors I love to be frank on the subject, and to 
advertise myself vi'va vo'ce. I am, sir, a practitioner in pane- 
gyric, or, to speak more plainly, a professor of the art of puff- 
ing, at your service, or anybody else's. I dare say, now, you 
conceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertisements you 
see, to be written by the parties concerned or their friends. No 
such thing ; nine out of ten are manufactured by me, in the 
way of business. 

You must know, sir, that from the first time I tried my 
hand at an advertisement, my success was such that for some 
time after I led a most extraordinary life indeed. Sir, I sup- 
ported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes; by 
advertisements To the charitable and humane, and To those 
whom Providence has blessed with affluence ! And, in truth, I 
deserved what I got, for I suppose man never went through 
such a series of calamities in the same space of time. 

Sir, I was five times made a bankrupt, and reduced from a 
state of affluence by a train of unavoidable misfortunes ; then, 
sir, though a very industrious tradesman, I was twice burned 
out, and lost my little all both times. I lived upon those fires 
a month. I soon after was confined by a most excruciating 
disorder, and lost the use of my limbs. That told very well, 
for I had the case strongly attested, and went about to collect 
the subscriptions myself. I was afterwards twice tapped for a 
dropsy which declined into a very profitable consumption. I 
was then reduced to — Oh no ! then I became a widow with 
six helpless children. 

F 



82 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

All this I bore with patience, though I made some occasional 
attempts atfelo de se; but as I did not find these rash actions 
answer, I left off killing myself very soon. Well, sir, at last, 
what with bankruptcies, fires, gouts, dropsies, imprisonments 
and other valuable calamities, having got together a pretty 
handsome sum, I determined to quit a business which had 
always gone rather against my conscience, and in a more lib- 
eral way still to indulge my talents for fiction and embellish- 
ments through my favorite channel of diurnal communication ; 
and so, sir, you have my history. 

K. B. Sheridan, 1751-1816. 



32.— CALIFORNIA'S PROSPECTS AND DUTIES. 

No greater blunder could any man make than expecting to 
find here, in California, a paradise for idleness and vice. He 
could stay at home with better prospects far, much more com- 
fort and far less expense. It is true here, if it be true any- 
where, that " if a man Avill not work neither shall he eat." 
This is the scriptural doctrine, and it is the California doctrine 
too. It is death to stand still. And so far from complaining, 
every true man should rejoice, that gold cannot be picked up 
on the surface and everywhere, but requires, like everything 
else worth having, hard and patient toil. A man must keep 
moving, and to some purpose ; for there are none to help a man 
who will not help himself. It is not idleness or vice which has 
converted a wilderness with almost miraculous rapidity into 
thriving cities and towns which already rival those of long- 
settled communities. It is no mean and solely Mammon-wor- 
shiping population which has established courts of justice, the 
schoolhouse, the church and the press, as among the necessities 
of a free people. These are the fruits of industry, of intelli- 
gence and of religious principle. 

But we have still a great work to do here, on this spot, and now. 
Ignorance is to be enlightened, sin is to be removed and society 



LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. 83 

to be reconstructed on these Pacific shores. This people ought 
to be, not as good as any other, but a great deal better than any 
other. We have the whole past from the beginning of time 
to build upon. What a universe is here of history, of philoso- 
phy, of ethics, of solid experience ! To us, under God, it may 
be given to belt the world with Christian civilization. 

If the alphabet of the highest truth was created in the East, 
and has ever since traveled westward, growing into a complete 
science, how inspiring the thought that we may carry it round 
a full circle to its starting-place, restoring fourfold into its 
bosom, and accomplish the magnificent prophecy, that " right- 
eousness shall cover the earth as the waters cover the seas " ! 
Already what Coleridge saw with the vision of a seer we see 
growing into reality before our very eyes : " Millions of people, 
extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific, living under the 
laws of Alfred, and speaking the language of Milton and 
Shakspeare." This he called " a grand conception." It is 
now a grand reality, and becoming grander every hour. 

Charles A. Farley. 

33.— LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. 

A chieftain to the Highlands bound cries, " Boatman, do 

not tarry ! 
And I'll give thee a silver pound to row us o'er the ferry." 
" Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle, this dark and stormy 

water ?" 
"Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, and this, Lord Ullin's 

daughter ; 
And fast before her father's men three days we've fled 

together, 
For should he find us in the glen, my blood would stain the 

heather. 
His horsemen hard behind us ride ; should they our steps 

discover, 
Then who will cheer my bonny bride when they have slain 

her lover ?" 



84 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight : " I'll go, my chief— 

I'm ready; 
It is not for your silver bright, but for your winsome lady, 
And, by my word, the bonny bird in danger shall not tarry ; 
So though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the 

ferry." 
By this the storm grew loud apace, the water-wraith was 

shrieking, 
And in the scowl of Heaven each face grew dark as they 

were speaking. 
And still, as wilder blew the wind, and as the night grew 

drearer, 
Adown the glen rode armed men, their trampling sounded 

nearer. 

The boat has left the stormy land, a stormy sea before her, 
When, oh ! too strong for human hand, the tempest gathered 

o'er her. 
And still they rowed amid the roar of waters fast prevailing ; 
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, his wrath was changed 

to wailing. 
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, his child he did 

discover ; 
One lovely hand she stretched for aid, and one was round 

her lover. 
"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, "across this 

stormy water, 
And I'll forgive your Highland chief, my daughter — oh, my 

daughter ! " 
'Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore, return or aid 

preventing ; 
The waters wild closed o'er his child, and he was left lament- 
ing. 

Thomas Campbell, 1777-1844. 



THE PRICE OF LIBERTY. 85 



34.— THE PRICE OF LIBERTY. 

"Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." "Power is 
ever stealing from the many to the few." The manna of pop- 
ular liberty must be gathered each day, or it is rotten. The 
living sap of to-day outgrows the dead rind of yesterday. The 
hand intrusted with power becomes, either from human deprav- 
ity or esprit de corps, the necessary enemy of the people. Only 
by continual oversight can the democrat in office be prevented 
from hardening into a despot. Only by un intermitted agita- 
tion can a people be kept sufficiently awake to principle not to 
let liberty be smothered in material prosperity. All clouds, it 
is said, have sunshine behind them, and all evils have some 
good results. 

Never look, therefore, for an age when the people can be 
quiet and safe. At such times despotism, like a shrouding 
mist, steals over the mirror of freedom. The Dutch a thou- 
sand years ago built against the ocean their bulwark of wil- 
low and mud. Do they trust to that ? No. Each year the 
patient, industrious peasant gives so much time from the culti- 
vation of his soil and the care of his children to stop the breaks 
and replace the willow which insects have eaten, that he may 
keep the land his fathers rescued from the water, and bid 
defiance to the waves that roar above his head, as if demanding 
back the broad fields man has stolen from their realm. 

Some men suppose that in order to the people's governing 
themselves it is only necessary, as Fisher Ames said, that the 
" Rights of Man be printed, and that every citizen have a 
copy." As the Epicureans, two thousand years ago, imagined 
God a being who arranged this marvelous machinery, set it 
going and then sank to sleep! Republics exist only on the 
tenure of being constantly agitated. There is no Canaan in 
politics. As health lies in labor, so there is no republican road 
to safety but in constant distrust. " In distrust," said Demos- 
thenes, " are the nerves of the mind." Let us see to it that 
these sentinel nerves are ever on the alert. If the Alps, 
piled in cold and still sublimity, be the emblem of despotism, 



86 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



the ever-restless ocean is ours, which, girt with the eternal laws 
of gravitation, is pure only because never still. 

Wendell Phillips. 







35.— A DEMOCRACY HATEFUL TO PHILIP. 

There are those among you, Athenians, who think to 
confound a speaker by asking him, "What, then, is to be 

done?" To which I might 
reply, "Nothing that you are 
doing ; everything that you 
leave undone!" And it would 
be an apt, a true reply. But 
I will be more explicit, and 
may these men, so ready to 
question, be equally ready to 
act! 

In the first place, Athenians, 
admit the incontestable fact 
that Philip has violated his 
treaties and declared war 
against you. On that point 
let us have no further crimination or recrimination. And 
then admit the fact that he is the mortal enemy of Athens, 
of its very soil, of all within its walls — ay, of those even who 
most flatter themselves that they are high in his good graces. 
What Philip most fears and abhors is our liberty, our free 
democratic system. For the destruction of that all his snares 
are laid, all his projects are shaped. 

Is he not consistent in this ? Truly, he is well aware that 
though he should subjugate all the rest of Greece, his conquest 
would be insecure so long as your democracy should stand. 
Well does he know that should he experience one of those 
reverses to which the lot of humanity is so liable, it would be 
into your arms that all of those nations now forcibly held 
under his yoke would rush. Is there a tyrant to drive back ? 
Athens is in the field ! Is there a people to be enfranchised ? 




A DEMOCRACY HATEFUL TO PHILIP. 87 

Lo, Athens, prompt to aid ! What wonder, then, that Philip 
should be impatient so long as Athenian liberty is a spy upon 
his evil days ? Be sure, O my countrymen, that Philip is your 
irreconcilable foe ; that it is against Athens he musters all his 
armaments ; against Athens all his schemes are laid. 

What, then, as wise men convinced of these truths, ought 
you to do ? What but to shake off your fatal lethargy, con- 
tribute according to your means, summon your allies to con- 
tribute and take measures to maintain the troops already under 
arms, so that if Philip has an army prepared to attack and 
subjugate all the Greeks, you may have an army ready to suc- 
cor them and to save? Tell me not of the trouble and expense 
which this will involve. I grant it all. But consider the 
dangers that beset you, and how much you will be the gainers 
by engaging heartily at once in the general cause. 

Verily, should some god assure you that however inert and 
unconcerned you might remain, yet in the end you should not 
be molested by Philip, still it would be ignominious (bear wit- 
ness, Heaven!), it would be beneath you, beneath the dignity 
of your State, beneath the glory of your ancestors, to sacrifice 
to your own selfish repose the interests of all the rest of Greece. 
Rather would I perish than recommend such a course. Let 
some other man urge it upon you, if he will; and listen to 
him, ye, if you can ! 

But if my sentiments are yours, if you foresee, as I do, that 
the more we leave Philip to extend his conquests, the more we 
are fortifying an enemy whom, sooner or later, we must cope with, 
why do you hesitate? what wait you? When will you put forth 
your strength ? Wait you the constraint of necessity ? What 
necessity ? Can there be a more pressing one for freemen than 
the prospect of dishonor ? Do you wait for that ? It is here 
already; it presses, it weighs on us even now. Now, did I say? 
Long since was it before us, face to face. Truly, there is still 
another necessity in reserve — the necessity of slaves — subjuga- 
tion, blows and stripes. Wait you for them? The gods 
forbid ! The very words are in this place an indignity ! 

Demosthenes. 



88 OXFORD 'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



36.— THE COMING BARD. ^ 

Oh ! when at length the expected bard shall come, 
Land of our pride, to strike thine echoes dumb 
(And many a voice exclaims in prose and rhyme 
It's getting late, and he's behind his time), 
When all thy mountains clap their hands in joy, 
And all thy cataracts thunder, " That's the boy," — 
Say if with him the reign of song shall end, 
And Heaven declare its final dividend ? 

Be calm, dear brother whose impassioned strain 
Comes from an alley watered by a drain ; 
The little Mincio, dribbling to the Po, 
Beats all the epics of the Hoang-Ho ; 
If loved in earnest by the tuneful maid, 
Don't mind their nonsense, never be afraid ! 

The nurse of poets feeds her winged brood 

By common firesides on familiar food ; 

In a low hamlet, by a narrow stream, 

Where bovine rustics used to doze and dream, 

She filled young William's fiery fancy full, 

While old John Shakspeare talked of beeves and wool ! 

No Alpine needle, with its climbing spire, 

Brings down for mortals the Promethean fire, 

If careless nature have forgot to frame 

An altar worthy of the sacred flame. 

Unblest by any save the goat-herd's lines, 

Mont Blanc rose soaring through his " sea of pines ;" 

In vain the Arve and Arveiron dash, 

No hymn salutes them but the Ranz des Vaches, 

Till lazy Coleridge, by the morning's light, 

Gazed for a moment on the fields of white, 

And, lo ! the glaciers found at length a tongue, 

Mont Blanc was vocal, and Chamouni sung ! 



VIBIATHUS TO THE LUSITANIANS. 89 

Children of wealth or want, to each is given 
One spot of green, and all the blue of heaven! 
Enough if these their outward shows impart ; 
The rest is thine — the scenery of the heart. 
If passion's hectic in thy stanzas glow, 
Thy heart's best life-blood ebbing as they flow ; 
If with thy verse thy strength and bloom distill, 
Drained by the pulses of the fevered thrill ; 
If sound's sweet effluence polarize thy brain, 
And thoughts turn crystals in thy fluid strain, — 
Nor rolling ocean, nor the prairie's bloom, 
]S"or streaming cliffs, nor rayless cavern's gloom, 
Xeed'st thou, young poet, to inform thy line ; 
Thy own broad signet stamps thy song divine ! 

6. W. Holmes, 1811. 



37.— VIBIATHUS TO THE LUSITANIANS. 

VIr-I-a'thus, a Lusitanian shepherd, having escaped the massacre of 
his people by the Roman proconsul Galba, in the year 150 B. C. (Before 
Christ), roused and rallied round him his countrymen, and for eight 
years carried on a war disastrous to Rome. Lusitania comprised the 
country now known as Portugal. 

AYho speaks of Roman pledges ? Hear me, Lusitanians ! 
Fresh from a spectacle of Roman perfidy, cowardice, barbarity, 
I can tell you a tale which will send the blood boiling in tor- 
rents of indignation to your hearts. Lured by the pledges of 
Sulpicius Galba, the Roman pretor, we descended, some thou- 
sands of us, from our mountain villages, with our wives and 
children, and gave up to him our weapons, under a promise of 
receiving grants of land. 

Fatal confidence ! No sooner had we parted with our instru- 
ments of war than the savage tyrant, the infamous Galba, 
ordered a general massacre of our people. Brutally was the 
brutal order carried out. Old men, women, children, the gray- 
haired, the feeble, the unresisting, were slaughtered in cold 
blood, with every aggravation of cruelty. My own father, 
the aged Vir-i-a'thus, was stricken down at my side. I saw 

8 * 



90 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

the wound on his venerable head — the streaming, precious 
blood. With dying breath, " Fly," he said, " if not for life, 
for vengeance ! " 

That last word compelled me. I wrested a sword from one 
of the murderers — hewed for myself a lane through the con- 
founded soldiery — sprang on a fleet horse — escaped — and here 
I am, with my story of wrong and outrage. Well may ye 
clench your hands! Oh, let them not be empty! Let them 
close upon the handles of your good blades ! Rise, my coun- 
trymen ! Throw off the yoke of Rome! Arm, and follow me 
to the field ! 

Who croaks to us of the power of Rome ? The power of 
Rome lies in her audacity. She dares — and does! Let us 
imitate her in this. Do we not outnumber her legions ten to 
one ? Have we not had enough of Roman extortion — of Ro- 
man perfidy ! Let the name of Galba be the answer ! Rome 
is an abyss which no treasure wrung from plundered provinces 
can fill up. Her pretors come, not to govern us justly and 
humanely, but to amass wealth for their private coffers, with- 
out scruple as to the means ; and when we will not give up all 
our possessions, even to the poor means of subsistence we share 
with the beasts, then — then a perfidious massacre is the result. 

Rome has driven us to the brink. We must turn upon her 
or leap the gulf. We will turn, my countrymen — shall we 
not ? Why, a rat will turn, even against desperate odds, when 
he is cornered. And shall we — men, Lusitanians, the sons of 
brave sires and chaste mothers — shall we stand panic-stricken 
while Roman ruffians slay and give no quarter — none even to 
our wives and little ones ? 

Ask ye for a leader ? Ye shall not go far to find one. 1 
claim the office. In my wrongs behold my title. Not one of 
all my kindred has Rome spared. So now I am all my coun- 
try's — every sinew, every pulse, every desire of my heart, every 
faculty of my brain. Here I devote myself, body and soul, to 
the utter extermination of Roman power from the land. Arm, 
then, my countrymen, arm, and follow me to victory or death ! 

Sargent. 



NO ALLIANCES WITH CROWNED HEADS. 91 



38.— NO ALLIANCES WITH CROWNED HEADS, 1851. 

We should not close our eyes to the fact that a great move- 
ment is in progress which threatens the existence of every 
absolute government in Europe. It will be a struggle between 
liberal and absolute principles — between republicanism and 
despotism. Are we to remain cold and indifferent spectators 
when the time of action shall arrive, and the exciting scene 
shall be presented to our view ? Will it not become our duty 
to do whatever the interests, honor and glory of our country 
may require, in pursuance of the law of nations, to give 
encouragement to that great movement ? Should we not rec- 
ognize the independence of each republic as soon as it shall 
be established, open diplomatic intercourse, form commercial 
treaties, and, in short, extend the right hand of fellowship, 
tendering all the courtesies and privileges which should exist 
between friendly nations of the same political faith ? I think 
that the bearing of this country should be such as to demon- 
strate to all mankind that America sympathizes with the pop- 
ular movement against despotism, whenever and wherever 
made. 

Sir, something has been said about an alliance with England 
to restrain the march of Russia over the European continent. 
I am free to say that I desire no alliance with England or with 
any other crowned head. I am not willing to acknowledge 
that America needs England as an ally to maintain the princi- 
ples of our government. Nor am I willing to go to the rescue of 
England, to save her from the power of the autocrat, until she 
assimilates her institutions to ours. Hers is a half-way house 
between despotism and republicanism. She is responsible as 
much as any power in Europe for the failure of the revolu- 
tionary movements which have occurred within the last four 
years. English diplomacy, English intrigue and English per- 
fidy put down the revolution in Sicily and in Italy, and was 
the greatest barrier to its success even in Hungary. So long 
as England shall, by her diplomacy, attempt to defeat liberal 
movements in Europe, I am utterly averse to an alliance with 



92 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

her to sustain her monarch, her nobles and her privileged 
classes. 

I repeat, I desire no alliance with England. We require no 
assistance from her, and will yield none to her until she does 
justice to her own people. The peculiar position of our coun- 
try requires that we should have an American policy in our 
foreign relations, based upon the principles of our own gov- 
ernment and adapted to the spirit of the age. We should 
sympathize with every liberal movement, recognize the inde- 
pendence of all republics, form commercial treaties and open 
diplomatic relations with them, protest against all infractions 
of the laws of nations, and hold ourselves ready to do what- 
ever our duty may require when a case shall arise. 

Stephen A. Douglas, 1813-1861. 



39.— LIFT UP THINE EYES, AFFLICTED SOUL. 

Lift up thine eyes, afflicted soul ! 

From earth lift up thine eyes, 
Though dark the evening shadows roll, 

And daylight beauty dies ; 
One sun is set — a thousand more 

Their rounds of glory run, 
Where science leads thee to explore 

In every star a sun. 

Thus, when some long-loved comfort ends, 

And nature would despair, 
Faith to the heaven of heavens ascends, 

And meets ten thousand there ; 
First faint and small, then clear and bright, 

They gladden all the gloom, 
And stars that seem but points of light 

The rank of suns assume. 

James Montgomery, 1771-1855. 



WILLIAM TELL AT ALTORF. 93 




40.— WILLIAM TELL AT ALTORF. 

Characters.- — Verner, Tell, Sarnem, Michael. 

Verner. Stay, William Tell. What means that drum? 
Give heed : 
Observe the people. 

Tell. What new show is this ? 

Verner. A pole, and on the top of it a cap ! 

Tell. Hark ! Look at that tall fellow with the sword ; 
He's going to speak. 

Sarnem. Ye men of Altorf, hear me ! 
Behold the emblem of your master's power 
And dignity. This is the cap of Gesler, 



94 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Your governor, whose pleasure now it is 
The cap shall have like honor as himself, 
And all shall reverence it with bended knee 
And head uncovered. Those Avho shall refuse 
This act of homage shall be marked and punished. 

Verner. A strange device to hit upon, indeed ! 
Do reverence to a cap ? A pretty freak ! 

Tell. What ! Grovel to a cap ? Kneel to a cap ? 
Rare jesting this with men of sober sense ! 

Verner. No freeborn man will stoop to such disgrace. 

Tell. And yet they do it, Verner. Look ! They do it. 
The cravens ! Never call me man again : 
I'll herd with brutes. Am I the same in kind 
With yonder servile creature who uncovers 
His head and bows — bows to a tyrant's cap ? 

Verner. Let's slip away before they mark us ; come ! 

Tell. No, no ; since I have tasted, I'll feed on. 

Verner. See! There goes one who bows not low enough. 
" Bow lower, slave," cries Sarnem, striking him ; 
And he bows lower. 

Tell. Verner, felt you not 
That blow ? I did ! My flesh doth tingle with it. 

Verner. You tremble, William. Come, you must not stay. 

Tell. Why not ? I'm armed, you see. I tell you, Verner, 
I know no difference 'twixt enduring wrong 
And living in the fear oft. I do wear 
The tyrant's fetters when it only wants 
His nod to put them on. [Enter Michael.] 

Verner. Hark! What is this? 

Sar. Bow, man ! 

Michael. For what? 

Sar. Obey, and question then ! 

Mich. I'll question now, perhaps not then obey. 

Sar. 'Tis Gesler's will that all 
Bow to that cap. 

Mich. Were it thy lady's cap, 
I'd curtsey to it. 



WILLIAM TELL AT ALTORF. 95 

Sar. Do you mock us. friend ? 

Mich. Not I. I'll bow to Gesler, if you please, 
Not to his cap. No, not to any man's. 

Sar. I see you love a jest; but jest not now! 
Bow to the cap ! Do you hear ? 

Mich. I hear. 

Tell. Well done ! A man ! A man, I say ! 
The lion thinks as much of cowering 
As he does. 

Sar. Once for all, bow to that cap ! 

Tell. Verner, let go my arm ! 

Sar. Do you hear me, slave ? 

Mich. Slave? 

Tell. Let me go ! 

Verner. He is not worth it, Tell : 
A wild gallant — an idler of the town. 

Tell. A man, I say — a man ! Don't hold me, Verner ! 
Let go ! You must not hold me. 

Sar. Villain, bow 
To Gesler's cap ! 

Mich. No ! Not to Gesler's self. 

Sar. Guards, seize him ! 

Tell. Off, you base and hireling pack ! 
Lay not your brutal touch upon a man. 
Do not ask him to bow. Go, crouch yourselves ; 
'Tis your vocation, which you should not call 
On freeborn men to follow — men who stand 
Erect, save in the presence of their Maker. 

Sar. What, soldiers ! Have ye arms, and do ye shrink 
Before this clown ? Seize him ! Or must I do 
Your duty for you ? 

Tell. Let them try it. Come ! 
A flock of wolves that did outnumber them 
I've scattered just for sport — ay, scattered them 
With but a staff not half so thick as this. 

( Wrests Sarnevi's weapon from him. Sarnem and Soldiers^?/.) 



96 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Verner. Now, Tell, away, before that gilded minion 
Eeturns with help. Come ! Be not rash. Away ! 

Mich. Whatever happens, Tell, count me your backer. 

Tell. Ye men of Altorf, 
What fear ye ? See what things ye fear — the shows 
And surfaces of men ! Why stand you wondering there ? 
Or is't that cap still holds you thralled to fear ? 
Be free, then ! There ! Thus do I trample on 
The insolence of Gesler. ( Throws down the pole.) 

James Sheridan Knowles, 1794-1862. 



41.— IO TRIUMPHE. 

Now let us raise a song of praise, like Miriam's song of old — 
A song of praise to God the Lord, for blessings manifold ! 
He lifteth up, he casteth down ; he bindeth, maketh free ; 
He sendeth grace to bear defeat ; he giveth victory ! 
Fling out, fling out the holy flag broad in the swelling air ! 
Its stars renew their morning song. All hail the symbol fair ! 
For what the fathers did of yore the sons have learned to do ; 
And the old legends, half believed, are proven by the new. 

Then honor, under God, to those, the noble men who plan, 
And unto those of fiery mould who flame in battle's van ! 
For, oh, the land is safe, is safe ; it rallies from the shock ; 
Ring round, ring round, ye merry bells, till every steeple 

rock! 
Loud let the cannon's voice be heard ! hang all your banners 

out! 
Lift up in your exultant streets the nation's triumph-shout ! 
Let trumpets bray and wild drums beat ; let maidens scatter 

flowers ! 
The sun bursts thro' the battle-smoke; hurrah! the day is 

ours! 

Elbridge J. Cutter, Feb. 20, 1862. 



THE GOOD GODDESS OF POVERTY. 97 

42.— THE GOOD GODDESS OP POVERTY. 

Paths sanded with gold, verdant wastes, ravines which the 
wild-goat loves, great mountains crowned with stars, tumbling 
torrents, impenetrable forests, let the good goddess pass, the 
goddess of Poverty ! Since the world has existed, since men 
were in it, she traverses the world, she dwells among men ; 
singing she travels, or working she sings — the goddess, the 
good goddess of Poverty ! Some men assembled to curse her, 
but they found her too beautiful and too glad, too agile and 
too strong. " Strip off her wings !" said they ; " give her chains, 
give her stripes, crush her, let her perish — the goddess of 
Poverty!" 

They ha,ve chained the good goddess, they have beaten her, 
and persecuted, but they cannot debase her ! She has taken 
refuge in the souls of poets, of peasants, of artists, of martyrs 
and of saints — the good goddess, the goddess of Poverty ! She 
has w r alked more than the Wandering Jew ; she has traveled 
more than the swallow ; she is older than the cathedral of 
Prague ; she is younger than the egg of the wren ; she has 
increased more than the strawberry in Bohemian forests — the 
goddess, the good goddess of Poverty ! Many children has 
she had, and many a divine secret has she taught them ; she 
knows more than all the doctors and all the lawyers — the good 
goddess of Poverty ! 

She does all the greatest and most beautiful things that are 
done in the world ; it is she who cultivates the fields and prunes 
the trees ; it is she who drives the herds to pasture, singing the 
while all sweet songs ; it is she who sees the day break and 
catches the sun's first smile — the good goddess of Poverty! 
It is she who builds of green boughs the woodman's cabin, 
and makes the hunter's eye like that of the eagle ; it is she 
who brings up the handsomest children, and who leaves the 
plow and the spade light in the hands of the old man — the 
good goddess of Poverty ! 

It is she who inspires the poet and makes eloquent the vio- 
lin, the guitar and the flute under the fingers of the wandering 



98 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

artist ; it is she who crowns his hair with pearls of the dew, 
and who makes the stars shine for him larger and more clear — 
the goddess, the good goddess of Poverty ! It is she who in- 
structs the dexterous artisan, and teaches him to hew stone, to 
carve marble, to fashion gold and silver, copper and iron ; it 
is she who makes the flax flexible and fine as hair under the 
hands of the old wife and the young girl — the good goddess of 
Poverty ! 

It is she who sustains the cottage shaken by the storm ; it is 
she who saves rosin for the torch and oil for the lamp ; it is 
she who kneads bread for the family, and who weaves gar- 
ments for them, summer and winter ; it is she who maintains 
and feeds the world — the good goddess of Poverty ! It is she 
who has built the great castles and the old cathedrals ; it is 
she who builds and navigates all the ships ; it is she who car- 
ries the sabre and the musket ; it is she who makes war and 
conquests ; it is she who buries the dead, cares for the wounded 
and shelters the vanquished — the good goddess of Poverty ! 

Thou art all gentleness, all patience, all strength and all 
compassion, O good goddess ! it is thou who dost reunite all 
thy children in a holy love, givest them charity, faith, hope, O 
goddess of Poverty ! Thy children will one day cease to bear 
the world on their shoulders ; they will be recompensed for all 
their pains and labors. The time shall come when there shall 
be neither rich nor poor on the earth, but when all men shall 
partake of its fruits and enjoy equally the bounties of Provi- 
dence ; but thou shalt not be forgotten in their hymns, O good 
goddess of Poverty ! 

They will remember that thou wert their fruitful mother 
and their robust nurse. They will pour balm into thy wounds, 
and of the fragrant and rejuvenated earth they will make 
for thee a couch, where thou canst at length repose, O good 
goddess of Poverty ! Until that day of the Lord, torrents and 
woods, mountains and valleys, wastes swarming with little 
flowers and little birds, paths sanded with gold without a mas- 
ter, let pass the goddess, the good goddess of Poverty ! 

George Sand, 



SANITARY LAWS. 



43.— SANITARY LAWS. 

Sir, when the religious man reflects that our bodies are 
God's workmanship, he sees that the laws impressed upon them 
can be no less than God's laws. If these laws, then, are God's 
laws, we are bound to recognize and obey them. We are bound 
to obey a law which God has impressed upon the body, on the 
same principle that we are bound to obey a law which he has 
impressed uj>on the soul. And, here, how pertinent and for- 
cible is the great idea that when we know a law to be God's 
law, it matters not by what means we may have arrived at the 
knowledge — the law becomes imperatively and equally binding 
upon us ! Between the law of the body and the law of the 
soul there may, indeed, sometimes arise what Ave call a conflict 
of duty, when the subordinate obligation of the former must 
yield to the supremacy of the latter ; but this refers to relative 
importance, and not to inherent obligation. 

My general conclusion, then, is that it is the duty of all the 
governing minds in society, whether in office or out of it, to 
diffuse a knowledge of these beautiful and beneficent laws of 
health and life throughout the length and breadth of the 
state — to popularize them ; to make them, in the first place, 
the common acquisition of all, and through education and 
custom the common inheritance of all, so that the healthful 
habits naturally growing out of their observance shall be 
inbred in the people ; exemplified in the personal regimen of 
each individual ; incorporated into the economy of every house- 
hold; observable in all private dwellings and in all public 
edifices, especially in those buildings which are erected by 
capitalists for the residence of their work-people, or for renting 
to the poorer classes ; obeyed, by supplying cities with pure 
water ; by providing public baths, public walks and public 
squares ; by rural cemeteries ; by the drainage and sewerage 
of populous towns ; — in fine, by a religious observance of all 
those sanitary regulations with which modern science has blessed 
the world. 

Horace Mann, 1796-1859. 



100 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




44.— TELL' S BIRTHPLACE. 

Mark this holy chapel well ! 

The birthplace this of William Tell. 

Here first an infant to her breast 

Him his loving mother prest, 

And kissed the babe, and blessed the day, 

And prayed as mothers used to pray : 

Vouchsafe him health, O God, and give 

The child thy servant still to live ! " 

But God had destined to do more 

Through him than through an armed power 

God gave him reverence of laws, 

Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause — 

A spirit to his rocks akin, 

The eye of the hawk and the fire therein ! 

To Nature and to Holy Writ 

Alone did God the boy commit ; 

Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft 

His soul found wings, and soared aloft ! 



THE INFLUENCE OF INVENTORS. 101 

The straining oar, the chamois chase, 
Had formed his limbs to strength and grace ; 
On wave and wind the boy would toss, 
Was great, nor knew how great he was ! 
He knew not that his chosen hand 
(Made strong by God) his native land 
Would rescue from the shameful yoke 
Of slavery, — the which he broke ! 

Stolberg {imitated by Coleridge). 



45.— THE INFLUENCE OF INVENTORS. 

Sir, in calling a meeting to do honor to the dead inventor 
whose invention can never die — the inventor of the electric 
telegraph — our city has shown itself to be on a level with the 
science and the humanity of the age. Our civilization, sir, 
depends for its progress upon the ever fresh supply of those 
intellects who wrest from reluctant Nature the secrets she so 
jealously hoards and hides. Certain inventions do not merely 
extend the dominion of human intelligence, but they at the 
same time are the beneficent creators of new wealth to satisfy 
human needs. 

Great Britain spent a thousand millions of pounds sterling 
— five thousand millions of dollars — in her twenty years' war 
with revolutionary and imperial France. Now, who supplied 
the sinews of that long and terrible war ? Is not the answer 
plain? They were supplied by James Watt and Eichard 
Arkwright, two men who gave to their country labor-saving 
machines which were equivalent to the manual labor of five 
hundred millions of men. English statesmen and English 
generals, with all their blunders, could not waste wealth as 
fast as Watt and Arkwright created it. And the first Napo- 
leon was at last overwhelmed, not by Pitt, Percival, Liverpool 
or Wellington, but by two illustrious inventors, one of whom 
began life as a mathematical-instrument-maker and the other 
as a common barber ; these were the men who overthrew 



102 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Napoleon. And I doubt whether we, with all our familiarity 
with the worth of industrial invention, can still realize the 
enormous, the unutterable debt of gratitude we owe to such of 
our countrymen as Whitney, FultoD, Howe, McCormick and 
Morse. 

As to Morse and his invention, you all of you of course 
remember the well-known lines of Byron as he witnessed a 
thunder-storm among the Alps. He wishes he might wreak 
his thoughts upon expression — compress them into one word — 
" and that one word were lightning ; " but Morse made the 
lightning not only converse, he made it to write also ; he has 
forced it not only to flash terror, but to flash intelligence; he 
has made it to be the obedient, humble servant of the meanest 
as well as of the greatest of men and women. Under his con- 
trol it condescends even to be careless or insipid, a retailer of 
gossip or thrall of scandal-mongers. 

You all recollect the remark of the old lady when she saw 
a telegraph pole with its wires set up before her country cot- 
tage. " Now," she spitefully said, " I suppose no one can whip 
a child without its being known all over creation ! " Certainly 
not, my good woman ; the press of Calcutta and St. Petersburg 
will hear every slap you give, and hold you to strict account 
for all unnecessary infantile castigation. 

Even the restive Yankee who, asking the operator in the 
early days of telegraphy how long it would take to send a 
message to Washington, and on being told five minutes replied 
that he could not wait — even he can now be satisfied. By the 
blessed difference in time he can be consoled by the assurance 
that this telegram from Liverpool will arrive several hours 
before the operator sent it. In short, Franklin drew the light- 
ning from the skies ; Morse sent it over the earth and com- 
manded it to do the behests of his fellow-men. 

But this taming of the seemingly untamable lightning has 
wrought noble as well as brilliant results. It enables great 
nations to communicate with each other in a minute of time. 
It enables the merchant who is rusticating at Newport or Sar- 
atoga to direct the course of his ships, separated from him 



ON ENGLISH INTERFERENCE. 103 

though they be by ten or twenty thousand miles ; and it equal- 
izes prices by the transmission of intelligence that prevents 
monopoly. It enables the press to annihilate space and bring, 
every morning, Europe, Asia and Africa to your very doors ; 
and last, though not least, it makes every throb of the human 
heart, every tear and tender anxiety for absent friends, kins- 
men, parents, lovers, known everywhere, and brings San Fran- 
cisco, St. Louis, Chicago, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, 
London, Vienna, Paris, Berlin, Rome, Naples, and even Hong 
Kong, into one great metropolitan city. E. P. Whipple. 



46.— ON ENGLISH INTERFERENCE, Oct., 1862. 

Do not think I am going to predict what is going to happen 
in America, or to set myself up as a judge of the Americans. 
What I wish to say is a few words to throw light on our rela- 
tions as a nation with the American people. We all regret 
this dreadful war, but to attempt to scold the Americans for 
fighting, or to think of reaching them with arguments when 
they are standing in mortal combat, a million of men armed 
and fighting to the death, would be the greatest waste of intel- 
lect we could commit. 

There are motives at work among the large majority of the 
people of America which seem to me to drive them to this 
dreadful contest rather than see their country broken into two 
nations. Leaving the dreams aside, what appears to be in the 
present day the tendency among the races of man ? Certainly 
not a desire to separate, but to agglomerate, to bring together 
in greater concentration different races speaking the same lan- 
guage and professing the same religion. What is going on in 
Italy ? What is it that stirs the heart of Germany ? What 
is it that moves Hungary ? It is the nations wishing to come 
together. It is very odd that statesmen here who have a pro- 
found sympathy with the movement in Italy in favor of unity 
cannot appreciate the force of that motive in the present con- 
test in America. Three-fourths of the whole population in 
America are now contending against disunion ; they are fol- 



104 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

lowing the instinct which is impelling the Italian, the German 
and the other populations of Europe. 

Let the foreigner once interfere in that quarrel, and you will 
have in America a united people — united to repel the intru- 
sion. And let me remind you that your interference would 
not obtain for you cotton. If the great Western States — the 
great, growing region of the Mississippi — determine to carry 
on the war, and say, " We will never make peace while the 
mouths of the Mississippi, which drain 27,000 miles of navi- 
gable water into the ocean, remain in the hands of a foreign 
power," we could never expect to put a period to it. You 
must remember that you have to go 1000 miles up the Mis- 
sissippi before you get to that vast region, peopled by eight or 
ten millions of souls, that will be the future depository of the 
wealth and numbers of that great continent ; and whatever 
the will of that people is, New York is but the broker of their 
opinion, and New York, Pennsylvania and New England must 
go with them. 

It is as idle, then, as the talk of children, for France and 
England to pretend that they can go there and reach that 
population. For my part, I think the language which is used 
sometimes in certain quarters with regard to the power of this 
country to go and impose its will upon the population of 
America almost savors of the ludicrous. When America had 
but 2,500,000 of population, we could not enforce our will 
upon it. And when you consider the tendency of modern 
armaments, and when you have to deal with civilized people 
having the same mechanical appliances as yourselves, and 
when that people number ten, twenty, thirty millions, it is next 
to impossible for any force to be transported across the Atlan- 
tic which will effect a conquest. 

Englishmen are very apt to think that they can do anything 
by force. Let them banish that idea; their interference in 
this case would only do harm, and in the end you would not 
get your cotton. Even if you could, what price would you 
pay for it ? I know something of the way in which money is 
voted in the House of Commons for warlike armaments even 



A CRY TO ARMS. 105 



in a time of peace, and I venture to say that it would be 
cheaper to keep all the population engaged in the cotton man- 
ufacture — ay, to keep them on turtle, champagne and veni- 
son — than to send to America to obtain that cotton by force 
of arms. It would involve you in a war, and six months of a 
war would cost more money than would be required to main- 
tain this population comfortably for ten years. 

KlCHARD COBDEN. 



47.— A CRY TO ARMS. 

Ho, woodmen of the mountain side ! ho, dwellers in the vales ! 
Ho, ye who by the chafing tide have roughened in the gales ! 
Leave barn and byre, leave kin and cot, lay by the bloodless spade, 
Let desk and case and counter rot, and burn your books of trade. 

The despot ravages your lands, and till he flies or fears, 

Your fields must grow but armed bands, your sheaves be sheaves 

of spears. 
Give up to mildew and to rust the useless tools of gain, 
And feed your country's sacred dust with floods of crimson rain. 

Come with the weapons at your call, with musket, pike or knife ; 
He wields the deadliest blade of all who lightest holds his life. 
The arm that drives its unbought blows with all a patriot's scorn 
Might brain a tyrant with a rose, or stab him with a thorn. 

Does any falter? Let him turn to some brave maiden's eyes, 
And catch the holy fires that burn in those sublunar skies. 
Oh, could you like your women feel, and in their spirit march, 
A day might see your lines of steel beneath the victor's arch. 

What hope, heaven, w r ould not grow warm when thoughts like 

these give cheer ? 
The lily calmly braves the storm, and shall the palm tree fear? 
No! rather let its branches court the rack that sweeps the plain, 
And from the lily's regal port learn how to breast the strain. 

Ho, woodmen of the mountain side ! ho, dwellers in the vales ! 
Ho, ye who by the roaring tide have roughened in the gales ! 
Come ! flocking gayly to the fight, from forest, hill and lake ! 
We battle for our country's right, and for the lily's sake ! 

Henry Timrod, 1829-1867. 



ICG 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




48.— CATILINE EXPELLED. 

At length, Romans, we are rid of Catiline. We have driven 
him forth, drunk with fury, breathing mischief, threatening to 

revisit us with fire and sword. 
He is gone — he is fled — he has 
broken away — he has escaped ! 
No longer within the very walls 
of the city shall he plot her ruin. 
We have forced him from secret 
plots into open rebellion. The 
bad citizen is now the avowed 
traitor. His flight is the confes- 
sion of his treason. Would that 
his attendants had not been so 
few ! Be speedy, ye companions 
of his dissolute pleasures, be 
cicero. speedy, and you may overtake 

him before night on the Aurelian road. Let him not languish, 
deprived of your society. Haste to join the congenial crew 
that compose his army ; his army, I say, for who doubts that 
the army under Manlius expect Catiline for their leader? And 
such an army ! — outcasts from honor and fugitives from debt ; 
gamblers and felons ; miscreants whose dreams are of rapine, 
murder and conflagration ! 

Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare, O 
Romans, your garrisons and armies ! and first to that maimed 
and battered gladiator oppose your consuls and generals ; next, 
against that miserable, outcast horde lead forth the strength 
and flower of all Italy. On the one side contends purity, on 
the other side pollution; here integrity, there treachery; here 
piety, there profanity ; here constancy, there rage ; here integ- 
rity, there corruption ; here continence, there licentiousness ; 
in short, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, struggle with 
iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness — every virtue with every 
vice ; and finally the contest lies between well-grounded hope 
and absolute despair. In such a conflict, were every human 



A DIVIDED BE PUBLIC. . 107 

aid to fail, would not the gods themselves empower such con- 
spicuous virtue to triumph over such complicated vice ? 

Cicero.* 



49.— A DIVIDED REPUBLIC, 1861. 

Fellow-citizens, there are some persons who maintain that 
this republic could be separated, and that two rival republics 
could live on prosperously and peaceably side by side. No 
more false or fatal thought ever crept into an American bosom. 
You might as well tell me that the boat which has been turned 
adrift above the cataract of Niagara will have a prosperous 
and a peaceful voyage. Stand amid the ruins of crumbling 
empires in the Old World, and the lesson of their experience 
will be that your dream of a divided republic is a delusion. 
Go into the cemetery of nations, and hold your ear to the sep- 
ulchres of those young and generous and high-spirited nations 
that have perished through the convulsions of civil strife, and in 
heart-breaking accents the answer will come, " It is a delusion." 

And if you will not listen to the voices of the past, go into 
Mexico and South America and ask the inhabitants of those 
bright lands, blest with a climate the most delightful on the earth, 
occupying a soil of exhaustless fertility, and living amid lakes, 
rivers and mountains of grandeur and inspiration ; they will 
lift up their bowed heads amid demoralization, poverty and 
dishonor, and they will tell you it is a delusion. 

Fellow-citizens, I rejoice to believe — may I not say to know? 
— that the spirit of loyalty at this time dwells richly and abun- 
dantly in the popular heart of America. But I do beseech 
you — you who have a deep stake in the present and in the 
future of our country — you, men of culture and of moral pow- 
er — I do implore you, by all means possible, add yet to the 
power and to the fervor of that loyalty. If it grows cool 

* Marcus Tullius Cicero, the greatest of Roman orators, was born at 
Arpinum, 106 B. C, 216 years after the death of Demosthenes. He was 
proscribed by Antony after the assassination <_ f Csesar, and murdered, in 
the sixty-fourth year of his age, by a party of soldiers, headed by a man 
whose life he had once saved by his eloquence. 



108 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

amid the calculations of avarice, or craven under the discour- 
agements of defeat, our country will be overcome. What we 
now need is a patriotism that will abide the ordeal of fire — a 
patriotism that is purged of all selfishness and all fear, which 
is heroic and exhaustless, which vows with every throb of life, 
with every pulse, that it will rally — if stricken down it will 
rise again — and that under the pressure of no circumstances 
of defeat, of sorrow or of suffering shall the national flag be 
abandoned or the honor of the country compromised. 

What we need is a patriotism which rises fully to the com- 
prehension of the actual and the awful perils in which our 
institutions are placed, and which is willing to devote every 
power of body and mind and fortune to their deliverance — a 
patriotism which, obliterating all party lines and entombing all 
party issues, says to the President of the United States, Here 
are our lives and our estates ; use them freely, use them boldly, 
but use them successfully. For, looking upon the graves of our 
fathers, and upon the cradles of our children, we have sworn 
that though all things else should perish, this country and this 
Union shall live. Joseph Holt. 



50.— HEAR BOTH SIDES. 

A man in his carriage was riding along, 

A gayly-dressed wife by his side ; 
In satin and laces she looked like a queen, 

And he like a king in his pride. 

A wood-sawyer stood on the street as they passed : 

The carriage and couple he eyed, 
And said, as he worked with his saw on a log, 
" I wish I was rich, and could ride." 

The man in the carriage remarked to his wife, 
" One thing I would have if I could : 

I would give all my wealth for the strength and the health 
Of that man who is sawing the wood." 



AGAINST BRIBERY. 109 



51.— AGAINST BRIBERY. 

It were better, O Athenians ! to die ten thousand deaths 
than to be guilty of a servile acquiescence in the usurpation of 
Philip. Not only is he no Greek, and no way allied to Greece, 
but he sprang from a part of the barbarian world unworthy 
to be named — from Macedonia, where formerly we could not 
find a slave fit to purchase. And why is it that the insolence 
of this man is so tamely tolerated? Surely there must be 
some cause why the Greeks, who were once so jealous of their 
liberty, now show themselves so basely submissive. It is this, 
Athenians ! They were formerly impelled by a sentiment 
which was more than a match for Persian gold — a sentiment 
which maintained the freedom of Greece, and wrought her 
triumphs by sea and land, over all hostile powers. It was no 
subtle or mysterious element of success. It was simply this — 
an abhorrence of traitors, of all who accepted bribes from 
those princes who were prompted by the ambition of subduing, 
or the base intent of corrupting, Greece. 

To receive bribes was accounted a crime of the blackest 
dye — a crime which called for all the severity of public justice. 
No petitioning for mercy, no pardon, was allowed. Those 
favorable conjunctures with which fortune oftentimes assists the 
supine against the vigilant, and renders men, even when most 
regardless of their interests, superior to those who exert their 
utmost efforts, could never be sold by orator or general, as in 
these degenerate days. Our mutual confidence, our settled 
hatred and distrust of all tyrants and barbarians, could not be 
impaired or turned aside by the force of money. 

But now, opportunity, principles, private honor and the 
public good are exposed to sale as in a market, and in ex- 
change we have that pernicious laxity which is destroying the 
safety, the very vitals, of Greece. Let a man receive a bribe, 
he is envied ; let him confess it, he provokes laughter ; let him 
be convicted, he is pardoned! His very accusation only 
awakens resentment, so thoroughly is public sentiment cor- 
rupted. Richer, more powerful, better prepared, than ever 
in 



110 OXFORD'S SENIOB SPEAKER. 

before, Ave lose all our advantages through these traffickers in 
their country's welfare. 

How was it formerly? Listen to the decree which your 
ancestors inscribed upon a brazen column erected in the citadel : 
" Let Arthmius of Zelia, the son of Pythonax, be accounted 
infamous, and an enemy to the Athenians and their allies, both 
he and all his race ! " Then comes the reason for his sentence : 
"Because he brought gold from Media into Peloponne'sus." 
This is the decree. Think upon it! Think what wisdom, 
what dignity, appeared in this action of our ancestors ! This 
receiver of bribes they declare an enemy to them and their 
confederates, and that he and his posterity shall be infamous. 
And the sentence imported more ; for in the laws relating to 
capital cases it is enacted that " when the legal punishment 
of a man's crime cannot be inflicted, he may be put to death." 
And it was accounted meritorious to kill him ! 

"Let not the infamous man," says the law, "be permitted to 
live," implying that the citizen is free from guilt who executes 
this sentence. Such was the detestation in which bribery was 
held by our fathers. And hence was it that the Greeks were 
a terror to the barbarians — not the barbarians to the Greeks. 
Hence was it that wars were fair and open, that battles were 
fought, not with gold, but steel, and won, if won at all, not by 
treachery, but by force of arms! Demosthenes. 



52.— TO-MORROW. 

To-morrow, didst thou say ? 

Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow. 

Go to — I will not hear of it. To-morrow ! 

'Tis a sharper who stakes his penury 

Against thy plenty ; who takes thy ready cash, 

And pays thee naught but wishes, hopes and promises, 

The currency of idiots : injurious bankrupt, 

That gulls the easy creditor ! To-morrow ! 

It is a period nowhere to be found 



TO-MORROW. Ill 

In all the hoary registers of Time, 
Unless, perchance, in the fool's calendar ! 
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society 
With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father ; 
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and as baseless 
As the fantastic visions of the evening. 

. But soft, my friend ; arrest the present moments, 
For, be assured, they are all arrant tell-tales ; 
And though their flight be silent, and their path 
Trackless as the winged couriers of the air, 
They post to heaven, and there record thy folly. 
Because, though stationed on the important watch, 
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel, 
Didst let them pass, unnoticed, unimproved. 
And know for that thou slumberest on the guard, 
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 
For every fugitive ; and when thou thus 
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 
Of hoodwinked Justice, who shall tell thy audit ? 

Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio ! 
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings ; 
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms — far more precious 
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountains ! 
Oh, let it not elude thy grasp, but like 
The good old patriarch upon record, 
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee ! 

Nathaniel Cotton, 1707-1788. 




112 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



53.— AN APPEAL TO ARMS. 

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illu- 
sions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful 
truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms 

us into beasts. Is this 
the part of wise men 
engaged in a great and 
arduous struggle for lib- 
erty ? Are we disposed 
to be of the number of 
those who, having eyes, 
see not, and having ears, 
hear not the things which 
so nearly concern their 
temporal salvation? For 
my part, whatever an- 
guish of spirit it may 
cost, I am willing to 
know the whole truth, 
to know the worst and 
to provide for it. 
I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that 
is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of 
the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish 
to know what there has been in the conduct of the British 
ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which 
gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the 
House ? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has 
been lately received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a snare 
to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. 
Ask yourself how this gracious reception of our petition 
comports with those warlike preparations which cover our 
waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary 
to a work of love and reconciliation ? Have we shown our- 
selves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called 
in to win back our love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. 




PATRICK HENRY. 



^JV T APPEAL TO ARMS. 113 

These are the implements of war and subjugation, the last 
arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what 
means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to 
submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive 
for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the 
world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies ? 
No, sir ; she has none. They are meant for us — they cau be 
meaut for no other. 

They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains 
which the British ministry have been so long forging. And 
what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we try argument ? 
Sir, we have been tryiug that for the last ten years. Have we 
anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have 
held the subject up iu every light of which it is capable, but 
it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and hum- 
ble supplication ? What terms shall we find w T hich have not 
been already exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, de- 
ceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that 
could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We 
have petitioned ; we have remonstrated ; w 7 e have supplicated ; 
-we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have im- 
plored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the 
ministry and the Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, 
our remonstrances have produced additional violence and 
insult, our supplications have been disregarded, and we have 
been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne ! 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of 
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate 
those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long 
contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble strug- 
gle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we 
have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious 
object of our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! I 
repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms and to the 
God of hosts is all that is left us ! 

Patrick Henry, 1736-1799. 
10* 



114 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

54.-ABRAM AND ZIMRI. 

Abram and Zimri owned a field together — 

A level field hid in a happy vale ; 

They plowed it with one plow, and in the spring 

Sowed, walking side by side, the fruitful seed. 

In harvest, when the glad earth smiled with grain, 

Each carried to his home one-half the sheaves, 

And stored them with much labor in his barns. 

Now, Abram had a wife and seven sons, 

But Zimri dwelt alone within his house. 

One night, before the sheaves were gathered in, 

As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed 

And counted in his mind his little gains, 

He thought upon his brother Abram's lot, 

And said, " I dwell alone within my house, 

But Abram hath a wife and seven sons, 

And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike. 

He surely needeth more for life than I ; 

I will arise, and gird myself, and go 

Down to the field, and add to his from mine." 

So he arose, and girded up his loins, 

And went out softly to the level field ; 

The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds, 

The trees stood black against the cold blue sky, 

The branches waved and whispered in the wind. 

So Zimri, guided by the shifting light, 

Went down the mountain path, and found the field, 

Took from his store of sheaves a generous third, 

And bore them gladly to his brother's heap, 

And then went back to sleep and happy dreams. 

Now, that same night, as Abram lay in bed, 
Thinking upon his blissful state in life, 
He thought upon his brother Zimri's lot, 
And said, " Pie dwells within his house alone, 



ABRAM AND ZIMRL 115 

He goeth forth to toil with few to help, 
He goeth home at night to a cold house, 
And hath few other friends but me and mine " 
(For these two tilled the happy vale alone) ; 
While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed, 
Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons, 
Who aid me in my toil and make it light, 
And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike. 
This surely is not pleasing unto God ; 
I will arise and gird myself, and go 
Out to the field, and borrow from my store, 
And add unto my brother Zimri's pile." 

So he arose and girded up his loins, 

And went down softly to the level field ; 

The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds, 

The trees stood black against the starry sky, 

The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze. 

So Abram, guided by the doubtful light, 

Passed down the mountain path and found the field, 

Took from his store of sheaves a generous third, 

And added them unto his brother's heap ; 

Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams. 

So the next morning with the early sun 
The brothers rose, and went out to their toil ; 
And when they came to see the heavy sheaves, 
Each wondered in his heart to find his heap, 
Though he had given a third, was still the same. 

Now, the next night went Zimri to the field, 
Took from his store of sheaves a generous share, 
And placed them on his brother Abram's heap, 
And then lay down behind his pile to watch. 
The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud, 
The cedars stood up black against the sky, 
The olive branches whispered in the wind. 



116 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Then Abram came down softly from his home, 

And looking to the right and left, went on ; 

Took from his ample store a generous third, 

And laid it on his brother Zimri's pile. 

Then Zimri rose, and caught him in his arms, 

And wept upon his neck, and kissed his cheek, 

And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak, 

Neither could Zimri. So they walked along 

Back to their homes, and thanked their God in prayer 

That he had bound them in such loving bands. 

Clarence Cook. 



55.— IN DEFENSE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.* 

In looking at the French revolution, one thing should never 
be forgotten — the people were driven to it in the first instance. 
The principles which they laid down were the simplest and the 
broadest, such as human nature left to itself everywhere 
recognizes. 

" A man's a man for a' that," 

we often say and sing, and no class objects at present to our 
doing so, and yet that was the principle of the French revolu- 
tion. " All ye are brethren " is a Christian doctrine, and yet 
that was the principle of the French revolution. Clothe them 
in hateful colors as you may, you cannot strip from the eye of 
posterity the fact that the principles of the French revolution — 
the principles of liberty, equality and human rights — are 
sacred and eternal principles belonging to all morality and 
religion. They were so judged at the time by men who had eyes 
to see and hearts to feel — by men like that pure, noble-minded, 
genuine Christian philanthropist, Roscoe, of Liverpool, who 
hailed the annunciation of such principles with the whole 
fervor of his soul, and when the National Convention put 

* From a speech delivered in London on the twenty-ninth anniversary 
of the battle of Waterloo, 1844. 



IN DEFENSE OF THE FRENCH BEVOLUTION 117 

forth its celebrated Declaration of Rights invoked all the 
powers of nature to give it sanction. 

Crimes, no doubt, there were — sanguinary and enormous 
crimes — perpetrated during the course of the French revolution. 
But be it remembered that these acts were done in self-defense. 
The revolution itself was completed peacefully, and no proof 
whatever is capable of being adduced that a peaceably accom- * 
plished event would not have remained had it been let alone. 
But the fact is there was a ceaseless struggle for a counter- 
revolution — a struggle carried on continually within and 
stimulated from without. The revolution was never secure 
for a day ; there were always persons in different ranks of 
society plotting. Foreign gold was circulating there to bribe 
domestic treason, and all Europe in arms was thundering on 
the frontiers. Is it wonderful that crimes were committed in 
self-defense in the circumstances in which they were placed ? 
Blockade a man in his own house — bribe his servants — put 
gunpowder under his bed — set fire to his dwelling, already 
surrounded by banditti — and then you must not be surprised if 
his conduct is rather extravagant and he becomes somewhat 
violent. 

Let there be no exaggeration here. In describing this event 
we speak as though the streets of Paris had for years and 
years flowed with blood. Much there was, indeed, shed of 
noble blood. Many fell under the guillotine who deserved 
statues raised to their honor and a niche in history — many 
who, if they had lived in England at no great distance of time, 
would have had their chance of being hanged under the reign 
of terror of William Pitt ; for if the French literary, philoso- 
phic and patriotic men suffered, we must not forget the fate of 
our honest Hardy in England. We must not forget that not 
only men of the shoemaking class, but that our Holcrofts and 
Thelwalls and Home Tookes — our men of philosophy, litera- 
ture, art and genius — held their lives for a Avhile in peril ; and 
it was by no virtue of the then ruling power that we did not 
commit some crimes as foul as any of those that stained the 
progress of the French revolution. 



118 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

"And what was the use of this grand victory at Waterloo?" 
will be the child's question to its teacher. Well, the battle of 
Waterloo replaced the Bourbons ; and where are they now ? 
Behold Louis Philippe, the son of Monsieur Egalite, upon the 
throne of France, sitting there nominally as "the citizen king," 
by the voice of the people, and not "by the grace of God!" 
■And after him, what? 

The Bourbons had reigned fifteen years, and the price of 
those fifteen years of Bourbon rule was twenty -three years of 
hard fighting. For every hour during which they reigned 
over France a hundred lives had been sacrificed upon the 
battle-field, to say nothing of the tears and the miseries and 
the horrors that attend a state of war, and the wretchedness 
which it propagates to the remotest distances. The reign of 
an archangel would have been dearly purchased at such a cost 
as that. W. J. Fox, 1790-1856. 



56.— ON PARTING WITH MY BOOKS. 

As one who, destined from his friends to part, 
Regrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile 
To share their converse and enjoy their smile, 
And tempers, as he may, affliction's dart, 
Thus, loved associates ! chiefs of elder art ! 
Teachers of wisdom ! who could once beguile 
My tedious hours, and lighten every toil, 
I now resign you, nor with fainting heart ; 
For pass a few short years, or days, or hours, 
And happier seasons may their dawn unfold, 
And all your sacred fellowship restore ; 
When, freed from earth, unlimited its powers, 
Mind shall with mind direct communion hold, 
And kindred spirits meet to part no more. 

Wm. Roscoe, 1753-1831. 



VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 



119 



i^i^^- '• : ; 




THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 



57.— VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 

Ix full-blown dignity see Wolsey stand, 

Law in his voice and fortune in his hand ; 

To him the Church, the realm, their powers consign, 

Through him the rays of regal bounty shine ; 

Turned by his nod the stream of honor flows, 

His smile alone security bestows ; 

Still to new heights his restless wishes tower ; 

Claim leads to claim, and power advances power ; 

Till conquests unresisted cease to please, 

And rio-hts subverted left him none to seize. 



120 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

At length his sovereign frowns : the train of state 
Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate ; 
Where'er he turns he meets a stranger's eye, 
His suppliants scorn him and his followers fly; 
JSow drops at once the pride of awful state, 
The golden canopy, the glittering plate, 
The regal palace, the luxurious board, 
The liveried army, and the menial lord. 
With age, with cares, with maladies, oppressed, 
He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. 
Grief aids disease, remembered folly stings, 
And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. 

Speak, thou whose thoughts at humble peace repine, 
Shall Wolsey's wealth with Wolsey's end be thine ? 
Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, 
The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? 
For why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate, 
On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight — 
Why, but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, 
With louder ruin, to the gulfs below ? 

When first the college rolls receive his name, 

The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame ; 

Resistless burns the fever of renown, 

Caught from the strong contagion of the gown ; 

O'er Bodley's dome his future labors spread, 

And Bacon's mansion* trembles o'er his head. 

Are these thy views ? proceed, illustrious youth, 

And virtue guard thee to the throne of truth ! 

Yet should thy soul indulge the generous heat, 

Till captive science yields her last retreat ; 

Should reason guide thee with her brightest ray, 

And pour on misty doubt resistless day; 

Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, 

Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; 

* There was a tradition that the study of Friar Bacon, built on an arch 
over the bridge, would fall when a man greater than Bacon should pass 
under it. 



VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 121 

Should tempting novelty thy cell refrain, 
And sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain ; 
Should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, 
Nor claim the triumph of a lettered heart ; 
Should no disease your torpid veins invade, 
Nor melancholy's phantom haunt thy shade, 
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, 
Nor think the doom of man reversed for thee : 
Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, 
And pause a while from learning to be wise ; 
There mark what ills the scholar's life assail — 
Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail ; 
See nations slowly wise and meanly just 
To buried merit raise the tardy bust : 
If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, 
Hear Lydiat's life and Galileo's end. 

On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, 
How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide ; 
A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, 
No dangers fright him and no labors tire ; 
O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, 
Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain ; 
No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, 
War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field ; 
Behold surrounding kings their power combine, 
And one capitulate, and one resign ; 
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain ; 
" Think nothing gained," he cries, " till naught remain, 
On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, 
And all be mine beneath the polar sky." 
The march begins in military state, 
And nations on his eye suspended wait ; 
Stern famine guards the solitary coast, 
And winter barricades the realms of frost ; 
He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay ; 
Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day ! 
11 



122 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands, 
And shows his miseries in distant lands ; 
Condemned a needy supplicant to wait, 
While ladies interpose and slaves debate. 
But did not chance at length her error mend ? 
Did no subverted empire mark his end ? 
Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound, 
Or hostile millions press him to the ground ? 
His fall was destined to a barren strand, 
A petty fortress and a dubious hand ; 
He left the name at which the world grew pale 
To point a moral, or adorn a tale. 

Samuel Johnson, 1709-1784. 



58.— A PLEA FOR BREVITY. 

Have mercy, O ye orators, ministers and talkers generally, 
have mercy on your hearers. Let your words be measured 
by the sands of the hour-glass, and not by an eight-day clock. 
Bethink you of the innumerable throng of speakers and writers 
our country has nourished, and lay to heart the significant 
fact that the first bronze statue raised on her soil was to Frank- 
lin, whose brevity was proverbial, his most wordy speech being 
hardly a span's length. Many of our public speakers and 
sermonizers are so long coming to the point that they remind 
one of the Dutch gymnast who took a start of a mile to make 
a leap, but being well out of breath when he arrived at the 
point, sat himself down and rested, and afterward made the 
leap at leisure. 

The oration of a late Senator in Congress, celebrated as 
having outlasted the French Revolution of 1830 by twenty- 
four hours, could now scarcely be brought to light by a Bow 
street detective. Jeremiah Mason, one of the most successful 
lawyers ever known at any bar, was always short — seldom 
more than a half an hour; and Webster was brief, sententious 



BOW SLEEP THE BRAVE. 123 

and pithy. Camping down before a jury is a late Yankee 
invention. 

Do you say it costs labor to be brief? Of course it does. 
Mere words are cheap and plenty enough, but ideas that rouse 
and set multitudes thinking come as gold comes — from the 
quarry. Your fifteen-minute man must be a worker, not 
easily satisfied and much given to blotting. 

How well do I remember the many hours I sat, in my 
juvenile days, watching the sounding-board suspended over 
the pulpit in the old church where I was wont to worship, 
wondering when it would come down, as tradition had it that 
it would in case the preacher uttered anything wrong ! But it 
never fell (political preachers were then unknown), proof pos- 
itive of the worth of the venerable pastor. What a blessing 
nowadays would such sounding-boards be, hung over every 
forum, wound up to the half-hour pitch, and sure to clap down 
on the speaker at the right moment ! They would extinguish 
many a politician, moralist and divine, but relieve much suf- 
fering. 



59.— HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE. 

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest ! 
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
Returns to deck their hallowed mould, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

By fairy hands their knell is rung; 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung; 
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 
And Freedom shall a while repair 
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there. 

William Collins, 1720-1756. 



124 



OXFORD'S. SENIOR SPEAKER. 




ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 



60.— THE UNITED STATES AND THE STATES, 1788. 

Mr. Chairman, it has been advanced as a principle that 
no government but a despotism can exist in a very extensive 
country. This is a melancholy 'consideration, indeed. If it 

were founded on truth, we 
ought to dismiss the idea of a 
republican government even 
for the State of New York. 
But the position has been mis- 
apprehended. Its application 
relates only to democracies, 
where the body of the people 
meet to transact business, and 
where representation is un- 
known. The application is 
wrong in respect to all rep- 
resentative governments, but 
especially in relation to a con- 
federacy of States, in which the supreme legislature has only 
general powers, and the civil and domestic concerns of the 
people are regulated by the laws of the several States. 

After all our doubts, suspicions and speculations on the sub- 
ject, we must return at last to this important truth, that when 
we have formed a constitution upon free principles, and given 
a proper balance to the different branches of the administra- 
tion, we may with safety supply all the powers necessary to 
answer in the most ample manner the purposes of government. 
I insist that it never can be the interest or desire of the 
national legislature to destroy the State governments. The 
blow aimed at the members must give a fatal wound to the 
head, and the destruction of the States must be at once a 
political suicide. But imagine for a moment that a political 
frenzy should seize the government ; suppose they should make 
the attempt. Certainly, sir, it would be for ever impracticable. 
This has been sufficiently demonstrated by reason and expe- 
rience. It has been proved that the members of republics 



THE UNITED STATES AND THE STATES. 125 

have been, and ever will be, stronger than the head. Let us 
attend to one general historical example. 

In the ancient feudal governments of Europe, there were, 
in the first place, a monarch ; subordinate to him, a body of 
nobles ; and subject to these, the vassals, or the whole body of 
the people. The authority of the kings was limited, and that 
of the barons considerably independent. The histories of the 
feudal wars exhibit little more than a series of successful 
encroachments on the prerogatives of monarchy. 

Here, sir, is one great proof of the superiority which the 
members in limited governments possess over their head. As 
long as the barons enjoyed the confidence and attachment of 
the people they had the strength of the country on their side, 
and were irresistible. I may be told in some instances the 
barons were overcome ; but how did this happen ? Sir, they 
took advantage of the depression of the royal authority, and 
the establishment of their own power, to oppress and tyrannize 
over their vassals. As commerce enlarged, and wealth and 
civilization increased, the people began to feel their own weight 
and consequence ; they grew tired of their oppressions, united 
their strength with that of their prince, and threw off the yoke 
of the aristocracy. 

These very instances prove what I contend for. They prove 
that in whatever direction the popular weight leans the cur- 
rent of power will flow — wherever the popular attachments be, 
there will rest the political superiority. Sir, can it be supposed 
that the State governments will become the oppressors of the 
people ? Will they forfeit their affections ? Will they com- 
bine to destroy the liberties and happiness of their fellow-citi- 
zens for the sole purpose of involving themselves in ruin? 
God forbid ! The idea, sir, is shocking ! It outrages every 
feeling of humanity and every dictate of common sense. 

Alexander Hamilton.* 

*Born in Nevis, one of the West India Islands, in 1737, Hamilton 
entered the American army before he was nineteen. With Madison and 
Jay, he wrote the " Federalist." He was the first Secretary of the 
Treasury of the United States. He was shot by Aaron Burr in a duel in 
1804. 

ti 



126 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER, 



61.— PRIDE SHALL HAVE A FALL. 

Characters. — Mr. Lofty, Mr. Bluff, Mr. Girard. 

Bluff. Friend Lofty, I am delighted to see you. I did not 
expect to meet you in Philadelphia. 

Lofty. Sir, you have the advantage of me. I cannot call 
you by name. 

Bluff. What! don't you recollect Bluff, the shipbuilder? 
Were we not once on a jury together ? 

Lofty. Very likely, Mr. Bluff; but that is hardly a reason 
for pledging eternal friendship. 

Bluff. I don't know that, friend Lofty. 

Lofty [aside\. Friend Lofty ! what impudence ! 

Bluff. Make a friend when you can, and be a friend when 
you can, is my maxim. Now, I left New York in such a hurry 
that I forgot to take a letter of introduction to the man we are 
both calling on — old Stephen Girard. Are you acquainted 
with him ? 

Lofty. I never saw him in my life, Mr. Buff. 

Bluff. Bluff, if you please, sir — Benjamin Bluff, at* your 
service. As I was about to say, if you do not know Mr. 
Girard personally, you have brought letters, perhaps ? 

Lofty. Certainly, sir ; I should not presume to call on a gen- 
tleman without an introduction of some sort. 

Bluff. Well, now, friend Lofty, you can do me a favor. 
Lying at my pier on the North Kiver is the Flying Cloud, as 
fine a ship as ever walked the waters. 

Lofty. That is no concern of mine, Mr. Bluff. I do not see 
what I can have to do with your Flying Cloud. 

Bluff. I want a cargo for her, and Stephen Girard is the 
man who can give her one, and you are the man who can say 
a good word to him for me as a fellow New Yorker. 

Lofty. Impossible, Mr. Bluff! You and I move in very dif- 
ferent circles, Mr. Bluff. In short, Mr. Bluff, you will please 
not to claim my acquaintance before Mr. Girard. 

Bluff. Not claim acquaintance ? Surely you know the firm 
of Babbitt & Bluff. 



PRIDE SHALL HAVE A FALL. 127 

Lofty. In the way of business, yes. Oh, a very respectable 
firm, no doubt ! 

Bluff. Is our note good at the banks ? 

Lofty. Unexceptionable, Mr. Bluff. 

Bluff. Why, then — But no matter, sir — no matter ! Here 
comes Mr. Girard's gardener. 

[Enter Mr. Girard, with a hoe and water ing-pot.~] 

Lofty. Come here, my good man. I am Mr. Lofty; when 
can I see Mr. Girard ? 

Girard. What do you want to see him for ? 

Lofty. I am waiting to see him on business. 

Gir. So I supposed. But what is the business ? 

Lofty. That's my business, my good man. You must not ask 
impertinent questions. 

Gir. Oh, I humbly beg your pardon, sir. I hope you will 
excuse my bad manners. We farmers, you know, are a rough, 
awkward set. [Makes an awkward bow.'] 

Bluff. Don't say a word against farmers, old fellow. My 
father was a farmer. An honest, industrious farmer is better 
than a king. 

Gir. Who are you, and who asked your opinion ? 

Bluff. Who am I? — Benjamin Bluff. Who asked my 
opinion? — Nobody. But this is a free country, and I can 
give my opinions unasked if I choose. So put that in your 
pipe and smoke it, Old Squaretoes. 

Gir. And what do you want of old Girard ? 

Bluff. I want him to give me a cargo for the Flying Cloud, 
bound for Marseilles, and as staunch and well-conditioned a 
craft as floats. 

Gir. The times are hard, and Girard is a stingy, close- 
fisted, grasping, disobliging, malicious, avaricious, miserly 
old— 

Bluff. Avast, there, avast ! Stop that, stop that, my friend ! 
Are you not ashamed of yourself, to abuse after this fashion 
the employer whose bread you are eating ? 

Gir. Why, everybody knows what old Girard is, and there is 



128 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

no harm in speaking it out. Because he pays me wages must 
I hold my tongue ? 

Bluff. You must hold it so far as to speak only what you 
know. Did he ever wrong you to the amount of a cent ? Did 
he ever do you an injustice ? 

Gir. I can't say he ever did. 

Bluff. Did you ever know to a certainty of his wronging 
any man ? 

Gir. I can't say I ever did ; but I have heard all sorts of 
reports. 

Bluff. Reports ! All that you know of him is in his favor, 
and yet, on the strength of mere reports, you try to prejudice 
a stranger against him. 

Gir. I don't know what right you have to talk to me in 
this way, Benjamin Bluff. I'm not to be brow-beaten by you, 
Benjamin Bluff! 

Bluff. Come, sir, put down the hoe and the watering-pot, 
the honest implements of the gardener, and take up the blud- 
geon of the highwayman ; it is not so dastardly a weapon as 
the tongue of the slanderer. 

Gir. Well, well, since you talk to me in this style, I will 
settle your business for you with old Girard. I have more in- 
fluence with him than any one of his clerks. 

Lofty. Influence ? Did you say you had influence with old 
Girard? 

Gir. I can wind him round my finger. He will do anything 
I advise him to. 

Lofty. Then I will tell you what I want. 

Gir. Tell me ? Why, just now I was an impertinent fellow 
for asking what you wanted. 

Lofty. Here is a dollar for you, my good man. 

Gir. Keep it for the next beggar. There are some bruises 
that money will not heal. 

Lofty. The truth is, old Girard has a couple of promissory 
notes of mine for ten thousand dollars, due next week, and I 
want him to renew them for six months. Do you think he 
will do it ? 



PRIDE SHALL HAVE A FALL. 129 

Gir. I know he will not. He can make a better use of his 
money. Besides, he is whimsical, and will not like you. 

Lofty. Then I am ruined. But I'll not believe you. After 
all, you are only Mr. Girard's gardener. 

Gir. That's true — I am only his gardener. But, then, he 
does his own gardening. 

Bluff. It is Mr. Girard himself! 

Lofty. My dear Mr. Girard, a thousand pardons for my 
stupidity in not recognizing you at once. 

Gir. No apologies, I beg you. I hate apologies. Old Ben 
Franklin used to say that a man who is good at apologies is 
generally good for nothing else. 

Lofty. I have brought letters from our mutual friends in 
New York — letters of introduction, sir, letters which will tell 
you who I am and what my standing is. I belong, sir, to one 
of the oldest families in the State. 

Gir. Put up your letters, sir. You have introduced your- 
self more truly than any letters can do. 

Lofty. What a provoking blunder ! 

Bluff. Well, I have spoiled my chances, and may as well 
go. Good-bye to you, Mr. Girard. 

Gir. Stop, Benjamin Bluff. Stop and dine with me, Ben- 
jamin Bluff. You want a cargo for your ship, Benjamin 
Bluff ? You shall have it, Benjamin Bluff. Is there anything 
else I can do for you, Benjamin Bluff? 

Bluff. Really, Mr. Girard, really, you take me by surprise ; 
I am very, very much obliged. 

Gir. Didn't I say Girard was a whimsical old fellow ? 

Bluff. Coming a stranger to you, and without letters, I had 
no right to expect this kindness. 

Gir. What do I care for letters ? I can measure a man by 
the glance of his eye, by the tone of his voice, by his gait, by 
the toss of his head, the grasp of his hand. I like you, Ben- 
jamin Bluff, and you shall have as many cargoes as you want, 
Benjamin Bluff. 

Lofty. My dear Mr. Girard, if you would have the goodness 
to read this letter — 

I 



130 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Gir. I desire to have nothing to do with you or your letters. 
The notes must be paid or go to protest — unless — unless — 

Lofty. Unless what, my dear sir ? 

Gir. Unless Benjamin Bluff says I must grant your request. 
Are you his friend ? 

Bluff [aside to Lofty], Do not be uneasy, sir. You told me 
not to claim your acquaintance before him, and I'll not do it. 
As you said, we move in different circles. 

Lofty. Oh, the fool that I have been ! 

Bluff. Do you really think so ? 

Lofty. I do, indeed. 

Bluff. So do I. But pride shall have a fall, and yours 
is in the dust. The old proverb is true. 

Lofty. Gentlemen, I will bid you good-morning. 

Bluff. Stop a moment, sir. Mr. Girard, I think we must 
try and do something for my old friend Lofty. 

Lofty. Ah, Mr. Bluff, how contemptible seems my pride by 
the side of your great generosity ! 

Bluff. I think we must give him the extension, Mr. Girard. 

Gir. Oh, if he's a friend of yours, that alters the case. It 
shall be just as you say, Benjamin Bluff. 

Bluff. We must help him out of his difficulties. 

Gir. It shall be done, Benjamin Bluff. 

Lofty. Gentlemen, my wife and children thank you. My 
thanks are not worth your taking. 

Gir. Well, Mr. Lofty, join us at the dinner-table. We all 
have our weak points. Let us try to forgive and to forget. 

Lofty. And, if possible, to reform. 

Gir. What say you, Benjamin Bluff ? 

Bluff. That I'm too much of a sinner myself, sir, to refuse 
forgiveness to the fellow-man who sees his error. 

Lofty. Gentlemen, it is hard to change one's character in a 
minute ; but I think I now see as I never saw before the lit- 
tleness of pride. 

Gir. Enough said, Mr. Lofty ! A fault heartily confessed 
is half repaired. Perhaps we may all be better for this meet- 
ing. Who knows ? Sargent. 



SCENE EE OM MA CBETH. 



131 




STRATFORD-ON-AVON, WHERE SHAKSPEARE WAS BORN. 

62.— SCENES FROM MACBETH. 
Characters — Macduff, Prince Malcolm, Eosse. 

Macduff. See, who comes here ? 

Malcolm. My countryman ; but yet I know him not. 

Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. 

Mai. I know him now. Kind powers, betimes remove 
The means that makes us strangers ! 

Rosse. Sir, amen. 

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ? 

Rosse. Alas, poor country, 
Almost afraid to know itself! it cannot 
Be called our mother, but our grave ; where nothing, 
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ; 
Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rend the air, 
Are made, not marked ; where violent sorrow seems 



132 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

A modern ecstasy ; the dead man's knell 

Is there scarce asked for whom ; and good men's lives 

Expire before the flowers in their caps — 

Dying or ere they sicken. 

Macd. Oh, relation 
Too nice, and yet too true ! 

Mai. What is the newest grief? 

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker ; 
Each minute teems a new one. 

Macd. How does my wife ? 

Rosse. Why, well. 

Macd. And all my children ? 

Rosse. Well, too. 

Macd. The tyrant has not battered at their peace ? 

Rosse. No; they were well at peace when I did leave 
them. 

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech : how goes it ? 

Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings 
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor 
Of many worthy fellows that were out, 
Which was to my belief witnessed the rather 
For that I saw the tyrant's power afoot. 
Now is the time of help ; your eye in Scotland 
Would create soldiers, and make women fight, 
To doff their dire distresses. 

Mai. Be't their comfort 
We're coming thither ; gracious England hath 
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ; 
An older, and a better soldier, none 
That Christendom gives out. 

Rosse. Would I could answer 
This comfort with the like ! But I have words 
That would be howled out in the desert air, 
Where hearing should not catch them. 

Macd. What concern they ? 
The general cause ? Or is it a fee-grief 
Due to some single breast ? 



SCENE FROM MACBETH. 133 

Rosse. No mind that's honest, 
But in it shares some woe, though the main part 
Pertains to you alone. 

Macd. If it be mine, 
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it ! 

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, 
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound 
That ever yet they heard. 

Macd. Ah ! I guess at it ! 

Rosse. Your castle is surprised ; your wife and babes 
Savagely slaughtered ! To relate the manner 
Were, on the quarry of these murdered deer, 
To add the death of you. 

Mai. Merciful powers ! 
What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ; 
Give sorrow words ; the grief that does not speak 
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. 

Macd. My children too ? 

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that could be found. 

Macd. And I must be from thence ! My wife killed too ? 

Rosse. I have said. 

Mai. Be comforted. 
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, 
To cure this deadly grief. 

Macd. He has no children — All my pretty ones ? 
Did you say all ? what, all ? Oh, hell-kite ! all ? 
What, all my pretty chickens and their dam, 
At one fell swoop ? 

Mai. Dispute it like a man. 

Macd. I shall do so ! 
But I must also feel it as a man. 
I cannot but remember such things were 
That were most precious to me ; did Heav'n look on, 
And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
They were all struck for thee ! Naught that I am, 
Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
Fell slaughter on their souls ! 
12 



134 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword ! let grief 
Convert to wrath : blunt not the heart, enrage it. 

Maed. Oh, I could play the woman with mine eyes, 
And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle powers ! 
Cut short all intermission : front to front 
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; 
Within my sword's length set him : if he 'scape, 
Then Heav'n forgive him too ! 

Mai. This tune goes manly ; 
Come, go we to the king : our power is ready ; 
Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth 
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may ; 
The night is long that never finds a day. 

Shakspeare, 1564-1616. 



63.— WHO'S READY? 

Heaven help us ! Who's ready ? There's danger before ! 

Who's armed and who's mounted ? The foe's at the door ! 

The smoke of his cannon hangs black o'er the plain, 

His shout rings exultant while counting our slain ; 

And onward and onward he presses his line. 

Who's ready ? Oh, forward, for yours and for mine ! 

ii. 

No halting, no discord ! the moments are fates ; 
To shame or to glory they open the gates : 
There's all we hold dearest to lose or to win ; 
The web of the future to-day we must spin, 
And bid the hours follow with knell or with chime ! 
Who's ready ? Oh. forward, while yet there is time ! 

in. 
Earth's noblest are praying at home and o'er sea, 
God keep the great nation united and free ! " 



MAGNANIMITY IN POLITICS. 135 

Her tyrants watch, eager to leap at our life 
If once we should falter or faint in the strife ; 
Our trust is unshaken, though legions assail. 
Who's ready ? Oh, forward, and Right shall prevail. 

IV. 

Who's ready ? " All ready ! " undaunted we cry ; 
For Country, for Freedom, we'll fight till we die ; 
No traitor at midnight shall pierce us in rest, 
No alien at noonday shall stab us abreast ; 
The God of our fathers is guiding us still. 
All forward ! we're ready, and conquer we will ! " 

Edna Dean Proctor. 



64.— MAGNANIMITY IN POLITICS. 

A revenue from America transmitted hither? Do not 
delude yourselves. You never can receive it — no, not a shil- 
ling! Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil 
rights associated with your 
government, and they will 
cling and grapple to you. 
These are ties which, though 
light as air, are strong as 
links of iron. But let it once 
be understood that your 
government may be one 
thing and their privileges 
another, the cement is gone, 
the cohesion is loosened! 
Do not entertain so weak 
an imagination as that your 
registers and your bonds, your affidavits and your suffer- 
ances, your cockets and your clearances, are what form the 
great securities of your commerce. These things do not make 
your government. Dead instruments, passive tools, as they 




EDMUND BURKE. 



136 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

are, it is the spirit of the English communion that gives all 
their life and efficacy to them. It is the spirit of the English 
constitution which, infused through the mighty mass, per- 
vades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies, every part of the 
empire, even down to the minutest member. 

Do you imagine that it is the land tax which raises your 
revenue, that it is the annual vote in the committee of sup- 
ply which gives you your army, or that it is the mutiny bill 
which inspires it with bravery and discipline ? No ! Surely, 
no ! It is the love of the people, it is their attachment to 
their government from the sense of the deep stake they have 
in such a glorious institution, which gives you your army and 
navy, and infuses into both that liberal obedience without which 
your army would be a base rabble and your navy nothing but 
rotten timber. 

All this, I know well enough, will sound wild and chimerical 
to the profane herd of those vulgar and mechanical politicians 
who have no place among us — a sort of people who think that 
nothing exists but what is gross and material, and who, there- 
fore, far from being qualified to be directors of the great 
movement of empire, are not fit to turn a wheel in the 
machine. But to men truly initiated and rightly taught, 
these ruling and master principles, which, in the opinion of 
such men as I have mentioned, have no substantial existence, 
are, in truth, everything and all in all. Magnanimity in pol- 
itics is not seldom the truest wisdom, and a great empire and 
little minds go ill together. Let us get an American revenue, 
as we have got an American empire. English privileges have 
made it all that it is ; English privileges alone will make it all 
it can be ! 

The American colonists draw from you as with their life- 
blood their love of liberty. We cannot falsify the pedigree of 
this fierce people and persuade them that they are not sprung 
from a nation in whose veins the blood of freedom circulates. 
The language in which they would hear you tell them this tale 
would detect the imposition. Your speech would betray you. 

Edmund Burke, 1730-1797. 



THE FATAL BRAWL. 137 



65.— THE FATAL BRAWL * 

Characters — Macgregor, Lamont, Argyle, Boss, Linzie. 
Scene— A room in Macgregor's house. 

[Enter Lamont.] 

Lamont. What, ho ! Who hears ? A stranger claims a 
refuge — 
Refuge and help ! Is no one in the house ? 
[Soliloquizes.'] 'Twas a hot chase, but I have distanced them. 
My brain still whirls — the wine is not yet out. 
What have I done ? Oh fatal, fatal frenzy ! 
Now it comes back — the dire reality ! 
Oh irretrievable and utter wreck 
Of all my hopes, made in one drunken moment ! 
This morning rich in all that graces life, 
And now a miserable homicide, 
A hunted fugitive! 

[Enter Macgregor.] 

Macgregor. A stranger here ? 
I knew not any one was in the room. 
Did no one wait upon you ? 

Lam. No. I entered 
By stealth one of the windows in the basement, 
And made my way unchallenged to this room. 
I am pursued — my life is in your hands ; 
I throw myself for shelter on your mercy ! 

Mae. Pursued ? For what ? No crime, I hope ? 

Lam. No crime 
Premeditate in act or in intent — 
Nothing to stain my honor ; yet a deed 
To blacken all my future — ay, to make it 
One long sigh of repentance ! 
At a tavern, 
A few miles off, a party of us stopped 

* Founded on an actual occurrence which took place in Scotland about 
the year 1625. In the incidents here represented there is hardly any de- 
parture from the facts as they are on record. 
12* 



138 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

And dined. The wine flashed freely. We partook 
More than our brains could carry. Up there came 
Another party of young men, elated, 
Like us, with wine. Quick wakener of contention, 
Politics grew the theme — high words ensued — 
The lie was given ; a blow — a fatal blow ! — 
Was struck, and I the giver ! The receiver 
Fell backward — hit the curbstone with his neck — 
Rose — staggered — dropped — and died ! 

Mac. Unhappy chance! 

Lam. When the appalling fear that I had killed him 
Grew to conviction, I stood motionless 
And mute with horror. Then a cry of vengeance/ 
Broke from his friends. Mine, overpowered, urged. me 
To fly. I ran, scarce knowing how or why, 
But with such speed I soon left my pursuers 
Far out of sight. At length I reached this house, 
And here I stand a suppliant. 

Mac. Your reliance 
Shall not be disappointed. On my hearth 
You stand a sacred guest. Let that suffice. 
Why do you start ? 

Lam. Because your tartan tells me 
My foes are of your clan. 

Mac. And what of that ? 
Did a Macgregor ever yet betray 
Or friend or foe ? Bid a disloyal host 
Ever yet bear our name ? Fear not. Your trust 
Shall be respected. If I heard aright, 
The deed was one of passion, not of malice. 

Lam. Oh, not of malice — not of brooding malice ! 
But momentary anger — anger that, 
Quick as the lightning, was as quickly ended, 
Leaving a desolation and regret ! 
Oh, in that fatal wine-cup there was melted 
A pearl of price — the relish of a life ! 
Never again the morning sunlight reddening 



THE FATAL BRAWL. 139 

My window-pane shall wake a thrill of joy ! 
Never again the smile of innocence 
Shall be reflected from these alien lips ! 
That sad, appealing look my victim gave me 
In his last dying throe will paint itself 
On the void air, and make my memory 
A funeral chamber for the dreadful image 
For ever. 

Mac. I'll not try to blunt the edge 
Of your great sorrow. Tis a wholesome pain. 
That man is less than man who can destroy 
The sacred human life and feel no awe, 
]N"o swelling of compunction. I'd not trust him ! 
To time and to God's mercy I commit you. 

\_An impatient knocking is heard outside of the house.'] 

Lam. \listens]. Hark ! They have tracked me here ! They 
knock for entrance. 
I hear their voices. Now the door is opened ! 
They're on the stairs. In their revenge and fury, 
Attempt to stay them, they will dash you down. 

Mac. Enter that room. Whatever you may hear, 
Be mute and do not stir. Fear not for me. 

[Exit Lamont. Enter Argyle and Ross.] 

Argyle. He is not here! 

Boss. I know not that. Macgregor, 
A fugitive is sheltered in this house. 
Deny it not. Show us his hiding-place. 

Mac. Unmannerly clown ! And if a fugitive 
Were here, am I the man to give him up 
On such a summons ? Master Archie Ross, 
Go home, and bid your teachers keep you there 
Till you can show a touch of gentle breeding 
When you accost a gentleman. 

Argyle. Macgregor, 
You'll blame us not for our disdain of forms 
When you hear all. You'll readily give up 



140 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

The miscreant when you learn he is the slayer 
Of your own son — of Albert ! 

Mac. No! No! No! 
Albert Macgregor slain ? A trick — a trick 
To get possession of the fugitive, 
To make me play the recreant — the traitor. 

Ross. So ! He admits it ! He admits the culprit 
Is in this house ! 

Mac. I admit nothing. Boy, 
If what you say is true — that he — my son — 
Is slain (and now the anguish of my heart 
Confirms the direful blow) — is't not enough 
For one day's woe that I'm bereft of him f 
Would ye bereave me of my honor too ? 

Argyle. Macgregor, your own words betray the fact 
That here our man is harbored. 

We must pass through this door. [ Going toward Lamont's 
place of exit.] 

Mac. Must pass, Argyle ! Back, trifler ! Must, indeed ! 
'Tis a Macgregor you are dealing with. 
Must is a word that he's not wont to hear 
In his own house, or elsewhere. 

Argyle [bowing']. Then, Macgregor, 
I pray you suffer us to pass. 

[Ross and Argyle approach as if to lay hands on him. He 
seizes a club from the wall, and they fall back.'] 

Mac. Stand back ! 
This is my house, and I am master of it ! 
Keep a respectful distance. 

Argyle. Give us up 
The wretch at once, or we'll call in assistance. 

Mac. Then you shall know what desperation is, 
And we'll have havoc. Would you madden me ? 

Ross. The man you shelter is a murderer — 
The murderer of your son ! \_A pause.] 

Argyle. You hear, Macgregor ? 

Mac. We-re he the murderer of all my clan, 



THE FATAL BRAWL. 141 

If he had made my hearth a sanctuary, 
If I had given my word to shelter him, 
So help me Heaven, I'd perish, hacked in pieces, 
Ere I would violate the sacred pledge ! 
[Enter Linzie.] 

Linzie. Where is the homicide ? 

Ross. Concealed within, 
As we believe. Macgregor bars our entrance. 
A loving father, truly, 
To try to screen the murderer of his son ! 

Mac. What wouldst thou be? The murderer of my honor ! 
Reviler, mocker of a father's anguish, 
Think you I could have loved my son so well 
Carried I here the stuff traitors are made of? 
Think you the bitterness of my bereavement, 
Sharp as it is beyond your poor conception, 
Could parallel the pang of treachery 
In a true heart — in a Macgregor's heart ? 

Linzie. You've done your best, Macgregor ! On your head 
Xo blame can fall. Away, and let us enter. 
We must have life for life. Lamont must die. 

Mac. Lamont! You said Lamont f 

Linzie. The son and heir 
Of your most deadly foe. 

Argyle. Did we omit 
To mention that ? Xow you'll not hesitate 
To give him up ! 

Mac. A double sanctity 
Invests him now. If I had wavered, that 
One mention had confirmed me. 

Linzie. We waste time. 
Enter we must, by soft means or by hard. 

Mac. Well, Master Linzie, enter if you dare ! 
Why do you wait? Why waste the time you grudge? 
[Lamcxst appears through the door.'] 

Lam. From further parley I relieve you all! 
Macgregor, I absolve you from your pledge. 



142 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Thanks for your noble dealing — for the honor, 
Stronger than vengeance, tenderer than love, 
That would protect one who has thrown a blight 
On all your joys. 

ISI ow, seekers of my life, come on and take it ! 
Be quick ! Ye'll only ease me of a burden 
My act has rendered hateful. 

Linzie. Ho, secure him ! 

Mac. [shielding Lamont]. I'd like to see the rash one who 
will venture 
To lay a finger, save in gentleness, 
Upon this youth. Back, tamperers with my honor ! 
Out of my house ! That man who tarries longer 
Is in great danger. Out of my house, I say ! 

[He threatens them with his weapon, and drives them out. A pause. 
Macgregor stands aside and covers his face with his hands. Lamont 
draws near to him and kneels.'] 

Lam. Macgregor, I am kneeling at your feet ! 
Not for my life — oh, not to thank you, sir, 
For that poor boon which one ungoverned impulse 
Has emptied of all value — but in token 
Of veneration for true nobleness, 
Of the prostration of my wretchedness, 
Of sympathy, of sorrow, of remorse ! 

Mac. Oh, I am childless. 

Lam. [rising]. That thought is like a knife 
In my own heart. Let there be expiation ! 
[Calls.] Linzie! Argyle! Come, seize me ! 

Mac. Keckless boy ! 
Would you thus frustrate all my pains to save you ? 
Judge you so poorly of me as to think 
I nurse a brute revenge that blood of yours 
Alone can satisfy ? — that my affliction 
Such balm could mitigate ? 

Lam. Oh, let me die ! 

Mac. No ! Be a man, and live ! Look up, Lamont ! 
Hark ! I hear angry voices. Your pursuers 



GOD RULES. 143 



In thicker numbers crowd. They will be here 
In half a minute. Come ! This way lies safety. 
They little know the secrets of my hold. 
We'll foil them. Do not doubt it. You shall hide 
Here in my house till I can guide you safely 
To Inverary to your friends. Delay not. 
Will you bring added woe upon my head ? 
Moments are precious. Come ! 

Lam. One word from you, 
And only one, shall from this spot uproot me 
And that word is forgiveness. 

Mae. I forgive you — 
As I would be forgiven, I forgive you. 

Lam. [gives him his hand]. Lead on, then, my preserver ! 
Oh, let my future tell how much you lift 
From this despairing heart in that one word, 
You do forgive me ! 

Now guide me and bestow me as you will. 
Henceforth above all prayers shall rise this prayer,* 
That I may live to comfort and requite you ! 



Sargent. 



G-OD RULES. 
Cease, then, nor order imperfection name ; 
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. 
All nature is but art, unknown to thee ; 
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see ; 
All discord, harmony not understood ; 
All partial evil, universal good; 
And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, 
One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right. Pope. 

* The prayer was signally fulfilled. It happened that in the year 1633 
there was an unjust act passed by the government, under which Mac- 
gregor lost his property and was hunted for his life. And now Lamont 
had the opportunity for which he had longed. Macgregor took shelter 
in his house. Lamont received him with tears of welcome, provided 
liberally for him and his family, and thanked Heaven for the gracious 
opportunity. 



144 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




ROBERT BRUCE AND WILLIAM WALLACE. 

66.— BANNOCKBURN. 

Scots who have with Wallace bled, 
Scots whom Bruce has often led, 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or ±o victory ! 

Now's the day and now's the hour : 
See the front of battle lower, 
See approach proud Edward's power- 
Chains and slavery ! 

Who will be a traitor knave, 
Who can fill a coward's grave, 
Who so base as be a slave, 

Let him turn and flee ! 

Who for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa', 
Let him follow me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains, 
By your sons in servile chains, 
We will drain our dearest veins 
But they shall be free. 



NOTHING IN IT. 145 



Lay the proud usurper low ; 
Tyrants fall in every foe, 
Liberty's in every blow — 
Let us do or die! 

Robert Burns, 1750-1798. 



67.— NOTHING IN IT. 

Leech. But you don't laugh, Coldstream ! Come, man, be 
amused, for once in your life — you don't laugh. 

Sir Charles. Oh yes, I do. You mistake ; I laughed twice, 
distinctly — only, the fact is, I am bored to death ! 

Leech. Bored ? What ! after such a feast as that you have 
given us ? Look at me — I'm inspired ! I'm a king at this 
moment, and all the world is at my feet ! 

Sir C. My dear Leech, you began life late. You are a young 
fellow — forty-five — and have the world yet before you. I 
started at thirteen, lived quick, and exhausted the whole round 
of pleasure before I was thirty. I have tried everything, 
heard everything, done everything, know everything ; and 
here I am, a man of thirty-three, literally used up — completely 
blase'. 

Leech. Nonsense, man ! Used up, indeed, with your wealth, 
with your twenty estates in the sunniest spots in England, not 
to mention that Utopia within four walls in the Rue de Prov- 
ence, in Paris. 

Sir C. I'm dead with ennui I 

Leech. Ennui ! poor Croesus ! 

Sir C. Croesus! no, I'm no Croesus! My father — you've 
seen his portrait, good old fellow! — he certainly did leave me 
a little matter of twelve thousand pounds a year, but, after 
all— 

Leech. Oh, come ! 

Sir C. Oh, I don't complain of it. 

Leech. I should think not. 

13 K 



146 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Sir C. Oh no ; there are some people who can manage to 
do on less — on credit. 

Leech. I know several. My dear Coldstream, you should 
try change of scene. 

Sir C. I have tried it ; what's the use? 

Leech. But I'd gallop all over Europe. 
■ Sir C. I have — there's nothing in it. 

Leech. Nothing in all Europe ? 

Sir C. Nothing ! Oh dear, yes ! I remember at one time I 
did somehow go about a good deal. 

Leech. You should go to Switzerland. 

Sir C. I have been. Nothing there — people say so much 
about everything! There certainly were a few glaciers, some 
monks, and large dogs, and 'thick ankles, and bad wine, and 
Mont Blanc ; yes, and there was ice on top, too ; but I prefer 
the ice at Gunter's — less trouble, and more in it. 

Leech. Then, if Switzerland wouldn't do, I'd try Italy. 

Sir C. My dear Leech, I've tried it over and over again, 
— and what then ? 

Leech. Did not Rome inspire you ? 

Sir C. Oh, believe me, Tom, a most horrible hole ! People 
talk so much about these things. There's the Colosseum, now, 
round, very round — a goodish ruin enough; but I was disap- 
pointed with it. Capitol, tolerable high ; and St. Peter's, 
marble and mosaics and fountains — dome certainly not badly 
scooped, but there was nothing in it. 

Leech. Come, Coldstream, you must admit we have nothing 
like St. Peter's in London. 

Sir C. No, because we don't want it ; but if we wanted such 
a thing, of course we should have it. A dozen gentlemen 
meet, pass resolutions, institute, and in twelve months it would 
be run up ; nay, if that were all, we'd buy St. Peter's itself 
and have it sent over. 

Leech. Ha, ha ! well said ; you're quite right. What say 
you to beautiful Naples ? 

Sir C. Not bad ; excellent watermelons and goodish 
opera ; they took me up Vesuvius — a horrid bore ! It smoked 



A LESSON FOB CRITICS. 147 

a good deal, certainly, but altogether a wretched mountain- 
Saw the crater — looked down, but there was nothing in it. 

Leech. But the bay. 

Sir C. Inferior to Dublin ! The Campagna ? a swamp ! 
Greece ? a morass ! Athens ? a bad Edinburgh ! Egypt ? a 
desert ! The Pyramids ? humbug s ! Nothing in any of 
them. 

Leech. Nothing in the Pyramids .' 

Sir C. Nothing. You bore me. Is it possible you cannot 
invent something that would make my blood boil in my veins, 
my hair stand on end, my heart beat, my pulse rise ? — that 
would produce an excitement, an emotion, a sensation, a 
palpitation ? But no ! 

Leech. I've an idea. 

Sir C. You ? An idea ? What is it ? 

Leech. What if you should — marry? 

Sir C. Hum ! well, not bad. There's novelty about the 
notion ; it never did strike me to — Oh, but no ! I should be 
bored with the exertion of choosing. If a wife, now, could be 
had like a dinner — for the ordering. 

Leech. She can — by you. Take the first woman that comes ; 
on my life, she'll not refuse twelve thousand pounds a year. 

Sir C. Come, I don't dislike the project ; I almost feel some- 
thing like a sensation coming. I haven't felt so excited for 
some time. It's a novel enjoyment — a surprise. I'll try it. 

Charles Mathews. 



68.— A LESSON FOR CRITICS. 

Once on a time a Nightingale, whose singing 
Had with her praises set the forest ringing, 
Consented at a concert to appear. 
Of course her partial friends all flocked to hear, 
And with them many a critic, wide awake 
To note a flaw or carp at a mistake. 
She sang as only nightingales can sing, 



148 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

And when she had ended, 

There was a general cry of " Bravo ! Splendid ! " 

While she, poor thing ! 
Abashed and fluttering, to her nest retreated, 
Alarmed at having been so wildly greeted. 

The turkeys gobbled their delight ; the geese, 
Who rarely failed to hiss a new performer, 
In their approval now grew warm and warmer : 

It seemed as if the applause would never cease. 

But 'mong the swelling critics on the ground 
An Ass was present, pompous and profound, 
Who said, " My friends, I'll not dispute the honor 
That you would do our little prima donna ; 
Although her upper notes are very shrill, 
And she defies all method in her trill, 

She has some talent, and, upon the whole, 
With study may some cleverness attain : 

Then, her friends tell me she's a virtuous soul ; 
But, but — " 
" But !" growled the Lion, wrathful. " By my mane, 
I never knew an ass who did not strain 
To qualify a good thing with a but ! " 
" Nay," said the Goose, approaching with a strut, 
" Don't interrupt him, sire ; pray let it pass ; 
The Ass is honest, if he is an Ass." 

" I was about," said Long Ear, " to remark 

That there is something lacking in her whistle — 
Something magnetic, 
To waken chords, emotions, sympathetic, 
And kindle in a donkey's breast a spark 

Like — like, for instance, a good juicy thistle." 

The assembly tittered, but the Fox, with gravity, 
Said, at the Lion winking, 
" Our learned friend, with his accustomed suavity, 
Has given his opinion without shrinking. 



IRISH ALIENS AND BRITISH VICTORIES. 149 

But out of justice to the Nightingale, 

He should inform us, as no doubt he will, 

What sort of music 'tis that does not fail 
His sensibilities to rouse and thrill." 

Why," said the critic, with a look potential, 
And pricking up his ears, delighted much 
At Reynard's tone and manner deferential — 
" Why, sir, there's nothing can so deeply touch 
My feelings, and so carry me away, 
As a fine, mellow, animating bray." 

I thought so," said the Fox, without a pause ; 
" As far as you're concerned, your judgment's true : 
You do not like the Nightingale because 
The Nightingale is not an Ass — like you ! " 

Sargent. 



69.— IRISH ALIENS AND BRITISH VICTORIES. 

The following eloquent remarks were made in the British House of 
Commons in 1837, in reply to Lord Lyndhurst, who had spoken of the 
Irish as "aliens." Sheil was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1791. He died 
in 1851. 

I should be surprised, indeed, if, while you are doing us 
wrong, you did not profess your solicitude to do us justice. 
From the day on which Strongbow set his foot upon the shore 
of Ireland, Englishmen were never wanting in protestations 
of their deep anxiety to do us justice. Even Strafford, the 
deserter of the people's cause — the renegade Wentworth, who 
gave evidence in Ireland of the spirit of instinctive tyranny 
which predominated in his character — even Strafford, while he 
trampled upon our rights and trod upon the heart of the 
country, protested his solicitude to do justice to Ireland ! What 
marvel is it, then, that gentlemen opposite should deal in such 
vehement protestations ? 

There is, however, one man of great abilities — not a mem- 
13 * 



150 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

ber of this House, but whose talents and whose boldness have 
placed him in the topmost place in his party — who, disdaining 
all imposture, and thinking it best to appeal directly to the 
religious and national antipathies of the people of this coun- 
try — abandoning all reserve and flinging off the slender veil 
by which his political associates affect to cover, although they 
cannot hide, their motives — distinctly and audaciously tells the 
Irish people that they are not entitled to the same privileges 
as Englishmen, and pronounces them, in any particular which 
could enter his minute enumeration of the circumstances by 
which fellow-citizenship is created, in race, identity and religion, 
to be aliens — to be aliens in race, to be aliens in country, to 
be aliens in religion ! Aliens ! Good heavens ! was Arthur, 
duke of Wellington, in the House of Lords, and did he not 
start up and exclaim, " Hold, I have seen the aliens do 

THEIR DUTY"? 

The duke of Wellington is not a man of an excitable tem- 
perament — his mind is of a cast too martial to be easily 
moved ; but notwithstanding his habitual inflexibility, I cannot 
help thinking that when he heard his countrymen (for we are 
his countrymen) designated by a phrase as offensive as the 
abundant vocabulary of his eloquent confederate could sup- 
ply — I cannot help thinking that he ought to have recollected 
the many fields of fight in which we have been contributors to 
his renown. "The battles, sieges, fortunes that he has passed" 
ought to have come back upon him. He ought to have remem- 
bered that, from the earliest achievement in which he displayed 
that military genius which has placed him foremost in the 
annals of modern warfare, down to that last and surpassing 
combat which has made his name imperishable — from Assaye 
to Waterloo — the Irish soldiers, with whom your armies are 
filled, were the inseparable auxiliaries to the glory with which 
his unparalleled successes have been crowned. 

Whose were the arms that drove your bayonets at Vimieira 
through the phalanxes that never reeled in the shock of war 
before? What desperate valor climbed the steeps at Badajos? 
All his victories should have rushed and crowded back upon 



IRISH ALIENS AND BRITISH VICTORIES. 151 

his memory — Vimieira, Badajos, Salamanca, Albuera, Tou- 
louse, and, last, of all, the greatest * Tell me — for you were 

there — I appeal to the gallant soldier before me, from whose 
opinion I differ, but who bears, I know, a generous heart in an 
intrepid breast — tell me — for you must needs remember — on 
that day when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the 
balance, while death fell in showers, Avhen the artillery of 
France was leveled with a precision of the most deadly science, 
when her legions, incited by the voice and inspired by the 
example of their mighty leader, rushed again and again to 
the onset, — tell me if for an instant, when to hesitate for an 
instant was to be lost, the " aliens " blenched ? 

And when, at length, the moment for the last and decided 
movement had arrived, and the valor which had so long been 
wisely checked was at last let loose — when, with words famil- 
iar but immortal, the great captain commanded the great 
assault — tell me if Catholic Ireland with less heroic valor than 
the natives of this your own glorious country precipitated her- 
self upon the foe ? The blood of England, Scotland and of 
Ireland flowed in the same stream and drenched the same 
field. When the chill morning dawned, their dead lay cold 
and stark together ; in the same deep pit their bodies were 
deposited ; the green corn of spring is now breaking from their 
commingled dust ; the dew falls from Heaven upon their union 
in the grave. Partakers in every peril, in the glory shall we 
not be permitted to participate ? and shall we be told, as a 
requital, that we are estranged from the noble country for 
whose salvation our life-blood was poured out ? 

Richard Lalor Sheil, 1791-1851. 

* The tone of suspension should be given at greatest, the dash indicat- 
ing a sudden break in the speaker's remarks. The battle he there refers 
to is Waterloo, fought against Napoleon, June 18, 1815. The opposing 
forces were commanded by Wellington, whose "words" to which the 
orator alludes were, "Up, Guards, and at them ! " Sir Henry Hardinge 
was the "gallant soldier" to whom Sheil appealed. 

Pronounce Assaye (in Hin-dos-tan') As-si'ye ; Vimieira (in Portugal) 
Vim-e-a-e'ra ; Badajos (in Spain) Bad-a-hos ; Albuera (in Spain) Al-boo- 
a'ra; Toulouse (in France) Too-looz'. 



152 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



70.— NORA'S VOW. 

Hear what Highland Nora said : 
" The earlie's son I will not wed, 
Should all the race of nature die, 
And none be left but he and I. 
For all the gold, for all the gear, 
And all the lands both far and near, 
That ever valor lost and won, 
I would not wed the earlie's son!" 

" A maiden's vows," old Callum spoke, 
" Are lightly made and lightly broke ; 

The heather on the mountain's height 

Begins to bloom in purple light : 

The frost- wind soon shall sweep away 

That luster deep from glen and brae ; 

Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone, 

May blithely wed the earlie's son." 

" The swan," she said, " the lake's clear breast 
May barter for the eagle's nest; 
The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn, 
Ben-Cruaichan fall and crush Kilchurn ; 
Our kilted clans, when blood is high, 
Before their foes may turn and fly ; 
But /, were all these marvels done, 
Would never wed the earlie's son." 

Still in the water-lily's shade 

Her wonted nest the wild swan made ; 

Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever,. 

Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river ; 

To shun the clash of foeman's steel, 

No Highland brogue has turned the heel - f 

But Nora's heart is lost and won — - 

She's wedded to the earlie's son ! 

Sir Walter Scott, 1771-1832. 



IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS. 153 




71.— IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS. 



My lords, there is one thing, and one thing only, which defies 
all mutation: that which existed before the world and will 
survive the fabric of the world itself — I mean justice; that 
justice which, emanating from the Divinity, has a ^>lace in the 
breast of every one of us, given us for our guide with regard 
to ourselves and with regard to others, and which will stand 
after this globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or our accuser, 
before the great Judge when he comes to call upon us for the 
tenor of a well-spent life. 

My lords, I do not mean now to go farther than just to re- 
mind your lordships of this — that Mr. Hastings's government 
was one whole system of oppression, of robbery of individuals, 
of spoliation of the public and of supersession of the whole 
system of the English government, in order to vest in the 
worst of the natives all the power that could possibly exist in 
any government, in order to defeat the ends which all govern- 
ments ought, in common, to have in view. In the name of 



154 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy upon 
Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to 
you. 

My lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of 
national justice ? Do we want a cause ? You have the cause 
of oppressed princes, of undone women of the first rank, of 
desolated provinces and of wasted kingdoms. 

Do you want a criminal? When was there so much iniquity 
ever laid to the charge of any one? No, my lords, you must 
not look to punish any other such delinquent from India. War- 
ren Hastings has not left substance enough in India to nourish 
such another delinquent. 

Is it a prosecutor you want? You have before you the 
Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors — and I believe, my 
lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world,"* 
does not behold a more glorious sight than that of men sepa- 
rated from a remote people by the material bounds and bar- 
riers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral 
community — all the Commons of England resenting as their 
own the indignities and cruelties that are offered to all the 
people of India. 

Do we want a tribunal? My lords, no example of antiquity, 
nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of human 
imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this. We 
commit safely the interests of India and humanity into your 
hands. Therefore it is with confidence that, ordered by the 
Commons, I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes 
and misdemeanors. 

I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain 
in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has 
betrayed. 

I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great 
Britain, whose national character he has dishonored. 

I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose 
laws, rights and liberties he has subverted ; whose properties 
he has destroyed ; whose country he has laid waste and des- 
olate. 



THE CURSE OF TYRANNY. 155 

I impeach him in the name and by the virtue of those eter- 
nal laws of justice which he has violated. 

I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which 
he has cruelly outraged, injured and oppressed, in both sexes, 
in every age, rank, situation and condition of life. 

Edmund Burke. 

72— THE CTJHSE OF TYRANNY. 

The race or tribe 
That willingly accepts a tyrant's chain, 
Content to take his word for law, content 
To merge the general reason and the sense 
Of common life and free-born patriotism, 
Of common wealth and common law, and all 
That banded freemen cherish and defend, 
In craven admiration of his power, 
Or skill, or knowledge, genius, yea, or wish 
To serve his country, — this same race is lost. 
The warrant for its death hath been made out 
In the high court of God, and it shall die 
And rot into the dust. Be the pretense 
More shining than Sidonian blazonry — 
Call it obedience, order, due respect 
For that which is above you, what you will ; 
Be the bribe carried in the tyrant's hand 
Desirable beyond all utterance — 
Security for property and life, 
Peace in the city, plenty in the store, 
And empire over half a world, no less — 
He who shall cast a stain on liberty, 
Or palliate the rule of one sole will 
O'er any nation imaging the God 
Whose children are the common brood of men, 
Is traitor to his kind, and poisoner 
Of the living wells where drinks the soul of man. 

Peter Bayne. 



156 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



73— TRUE AND FALSE SCIENCE. 

As all is not gold that glitters, so all is not science that bears 
the name. Dean Swift, in his day, humorously complained 
that Grub street had migrated to the Royal Society. Well, 
we cannot say that things are as bad as that, but certainly 
there are some ragged and suspicious-looking fellows lurking 
about the premises ; and as the duty of the press, like Dog- 
berry's, is to comprehend all vagroms, so we bid these stand. 
For example, a German doctor was around the other day, who 
informed us that with matter and force he could very easily 
reconstruct everything there is in the universe. He did not 
tell us what matter and force are apart from the mind which 
conceives them as phenomenal relations, but he was sure of 
his point, and that was enough. 

Then, there is another of these outside teachers of science 
who has contrived a vast process of cosmic evolutions, who 
tells us that a great while ago — ten thousand years — no, a hun- 
dred million of millious of millions of years ago — a nebulous 
gas was diffused through the immensity of space, which first 
twisted itself into a solar system ; then into a world ; then into 
first layers of mineral strata ; then into vegetable sporules, into 
animal motions, into human vortices, called societies, into 
Iliads, Parthenons and Shakespeares, and at last into a grand 
philosophy of evolution — the crown and consummation of the 
whole; which may all be true, though the birth strikes me as 
hardly worthy of so long and so tremendous a parturition. 

Again, a third convinces himself and his admirers that the 
universe is considerably defective, and that, like Alphonso of 
Castile, if he had been consulted in the making of it, he could 
have given many useful hints toward its improvement. And 
so, too, when the deepest human instincts in all ages have re- 
peated what the Hebrew peasant said gazing into the clear 
depths of the Eastern skies, " The heavens declare the glory 
of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork, " our 
modern philosopher cries, "Pish! the heavens declare the 
glory of Copernicus, Kepler and Newton." 



TRUE AND FALSE SCIENCE. 157 

Then there is another French litterateur, who with all his 
undeniable merits, masquerades a little too much in the habil- 
iments of science, who is very sure that mind and motion are 
but the obverse sides of the same essential phenomenon, the 
one coming in by the front door of the consciousness, and the 
other by the back door of the sense. When you talk, he says, 
of the martyr's faith, the hero's devotion, the mother's love, 
the poet's fancy, the artist's genius, the lover's rapture, you 
are only giving so many different names to so many dif- 
ferent movements of little molecules in the brain — up, 
down, hither, thither, this way, that way, etc.; but my 
opinion is that the ingenious gentleman will find, when he 
comes to the truth of the case, that what he terms mole- 
cules are only maggots, of which a very fine specimen has 
found its cradle and home in his own capacious cranium. 
Now, if this be science, we must exclaim with the poet, 

" O star-eyed Science ! hast thou wandered there 
To waft us back the tidings of despair?" 

Is this all the tidings ye bring from the empyrean ? What ! is 
there nothing at the central wheel of life but a blind, dumb, 
insensible, unknowable force — a force without love, without 
intelligence, without desire or purpose — an eyeless Samson who 
goes grinding on for ever at his mill, and crushing onward for 
ever in a fruitless battle against death, and nothing new? 
" Great God ! " as Wordsworth says : 
"I'd rather be 
A pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 

Have glimpses that would make it less forlorn, 
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, 
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn!" 

No! These are conjectures that impose upon us their own 
fantastic offsprings for the legitimate offsprings of science. 
Science is exact, and certain, and authoritative, because deal- 
ing with fact and the systematic co-ordination of facts only. 
She does not wander away into the void inane. She has noth- 
ing to do with questions of primal origin or of ultimate des- 

14 



158 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

tinies, not because they are unimportant questions or insoluble, 
but because they transcend her instruments and her methods. 
She leaves them to philosophy, which proceeds not by demon- 
stration and proof, but by insight, by intuition and by moral 
reasoning, or she leaves them to revelation, in whose supernal 
light alone they can be properly illuminated and fully seen. 

Parke Godwin. 



74.— TO A WINTER WIND. 

Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains, 

Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, 
Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy fountains, 
Draughts of life to me ! 

Clear wind, cold wind, like a northern giant, 

Stars brightly threading thy cloud-driven hair, 
Thrilling the blank night with a voice defiant, 
Lo ! I meet thee there ! 

Wild wind, bold wind, like a strong-armed angel, 

Clasp me round — kiss me with thy kisses divine ! 
Breathe in my dull heart thy secret sweet evangel — 
Mine, and only mine ! 

Fierce wind, mad wind, howling through the nations, 

Knew'st thou how leapeth that heart as thou goest by, 
Ah ! thou wouldst pause a while in a sudden patience, 
Like a human sigh. 

Sharp wind, keen wind, cutting as word arrows, 

Empty thy quiverful ! pass on ! what is't to thee 
Though in some mortal eyes life's whole bright circle narrows 
To one misery ? 

Loud wind, strong wind, stay thou in the mountains ! 

Fresh wind, free wind, trouble not the sea ! 
Or lay thy deathly hand upon my heart's warm fountains, 
That I hear not thee! Mrs. Mulock Craik. 



FUTURE GROWTH OF THE SOUL. 



159 







HOLLAND HOUSE, RESIDENCE OF ADDISON. 

75.— FUTURE GROWTH OF THE SOUL. 

Among other excellent arguments for the immortality of the 
soul there is one drawn from its perpetual progress to its perfec- 
tion, without a possibility of ever arriving at it, which is a hint 
that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved on 
by others, though it seems to me to carry great weight. How 
can it enter into the thoughts of man that the soul, which is 
capable of such immense perfections and of receiving new im- 
provements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing almost 
as soon as it is created ? 

Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious beings 
for so mean and brief a purpose ? Would he give us talents 
not to be exerted, capacities never to be gratified ? How can 
we find that wisdom that shines in all his works, in the forma- 
tion of man, without looking on this world as only a nursery 
for the next, and believing that the several generations which 
rise up and disappear in quick succession are only to receive 
their first rudiments of existence here, and afterwards to be 



160 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

transplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may 
spread and flourish to all eternity ? 

There is not a more pleasing consideration in religion than 
this of the perpetual progress which the soul makes toward 
the perfection of its nature without ever arriving at a period in 
it. To look upon the soul as going on from strength to strength, 
to consider that she is to shine for ever with new accessions of 
glory, that she will still be adding virtue to virtue, and know- 
ledge to knowledge, carries in it something wonderfully agree- 
able to that ambition which is natural to the mind of man. 

Methinks this single consideration, of the progress of a finite 
spirit to perfection, will be sufficient to extinguish all envy in 
inferior natures, and all contempt in superior. That cherubim 
that now appears as a God to a human soul knows very well that 
the period will come about in eternity when the human soul 
shall be as perfect as he himself now is — nay, when she shall look 
down on that degree of perfection as much as she now falls short 
of it. It is true the higher nature still advances and preserves 
his superiority, but he knows that how high soever the station 
may be of which he stands possessed, the inferior nature will 
mount up to it, and shine in the same degree of glory. With 
what astonishment and veneration may we look into our own 
souls, where there are such hidden sources of perfection ! 

Joseph Addison, 1672-1719. 



76.— AGAINST INORDINATE SPECULATION. 

Industry is the natural, sure way to wealth. This is so 
true that it is impossible an industrious, free people should 
want the necessaries and comforts of life or an idle enjoy them 
under any form of government. Money is so far useful to the 
public as it promoteth industry, and credit, having the same 
effect, is of the same value with money ; but money or credit 
circulating through a nation from hand to hand, without pro- 
ducing labor and industry in the inhabitants, is direct gaming. 

It is not impossible for cunning men to make such plausible 



AGAINST INORDINATE SPECULATION 161 

schemes as may draw those who are less skillful into their own 
and the public ruin. But surely there is no man of sense and 
honesty but must see and own, whether he understands the 
game or not, that it is an evident folly for any people, instead 
of prosecuting the old honest methods of industry and frugal- 
ity, to sit down to a public gaming-table and play off their 
money one to another. 

The more methods there are in a state for acquiring riches 
without industry or merit, the less there ivill be of either in that 
state ; this is as evident as the ruin that attends it. Besides, 
when money is shifted from hand to hand in such a blind, for- 
tuitous manner that some men shall from nothing acquire in 
an instant vast estates without the least desert, while others 
are as suddenly stripped of plentiful fortunes and left on the 
parish by their own avarice and credulity, what can be hoped 
for on the one hand but abandoned luxury and wantonness, or 
on the other but extreme madness and despair ? 

In short, all projects for growing rich by sudden and extra- 
ordinary methods, as they operate violently on the passions of 
men, and encourage them to despise the slow, moderate gains 
that are to be made by an honest industry, must be ruinous to 
the public, and even the winners themselves will at length be 
involved in the public ruin. God grant the time be not near 
when men shall say (as if it were a state that had passed 
away) , " This island was once inhabited by a religious, brave, 
sincere people, of plain, uncorrupt manners, respecting inbred 
worth rather than titles and appearances, assertors of liberty, 
lovers of their country, jealous of their own rights, and unwill- 
ing to infringe the rights of others ; improvers of learning 
and the useful arts, enemies to luxury, tender of other men's 
lives and prodigal of their own ; inferior in nothing to the old 
Greeks or Romans, and superior to each of those people in the 

perfections of the other." 

George Berkeley,* 1684-1753. 

* Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne, was a native of Ireland, and the author of 
several philosophical and scientific works. In the year 1728 he sailed for 
America, and resided nearly two years in Newport,- Rhode Island. He 
was the friend of Pope and Swift. 

14* L 



162 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



77.— WOODHULL. 

General Nathaniel Woodhull was born at Mastic, Long Island, in 1722, 
and was engaged in several gallant actions during the war of the Amer- 
ican Revolution. At the time of the invasion of Long Island by the 
royal forces, in 1776, he was overtaken at Jamaica, with two or three com- 
panions, by a detachment of the seventeenth regiment of British dra- 
goons and the seventy-first regiment of infantry. He gave up his sword 
in token of surrender ; but the subordinate officer who first approached 
ordered him to say, "God save the king!" This Woodhull refused to 
do, for which the officer struck him severely over the head with his 
sword; and of the effects of the wound Woodhull died. 

'Twas when Long Island's heights beheld 

The king's invading horde, 
That, by outnumbering foes compelled, 

Our chief gave up his sword. 

Then spoke the victor : " Now from me 

No mercy shall you wring, 
Unless, base rebel, on your knee, 

You cry, ' God save the king !' " 

With reverent but undaunted tone 
Then Woodhull made reply : 
" No king I own, save one alone, 
The Lord of earth and sky ! 

" But far from me the wish that ill 
Your monarch should befall ; 
So freely, and with right good will, 
I'll say, God save us all! " 

Shouted the foeman, " Paltering slave ! 

Repeat, without delay, 
' God save the king,' nor longer brave 

The fury that can slay ! " 

But Woodhull said, "Unarmed, I hear; 

Yet threats cannot appall ! 
Ne'er passed these lips the breath of fear, 

And so — God save us all ! " 



THE WEATHERCOCK. 163 

" Then, rebel, rue thy stubborn will," 

The ruffian victor cried, 
" This weapon shall my threat fulfill ; 

So perish in thy pride ! " 

Rapid as thought the murderous blow 

Fell on the prisoner's head ; 
With warrior rage he scanned his foe, 

Then, staggering, sank and bled. 

But anger vanished with his fall ; 

His heart the wrong forgave : 
Dying, he sighed, " God save you all, 

And me, a sinner, save ! " 

Sargent. 



78.— THE WEATHERCOCK. 

Old Fickle. What reputation, what honor, what profit can 
accrue to you from such conduct as yours ? One moment you 
tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the 
world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers. 

Tristram Fickle. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir. 

Old F. Then from a fiddler you are metamorphosed into a 
philosopher ; and for the noise of drums, trumpets and haut- 
boys, you substitute a vile jargon more unintelligible than 
was ever heard at the tower of Babel. 

Tri. You are right, sir. I have found out that philosophy 
is folly ; so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato 
and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date. 

Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper the other day 
for barreling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live 
like Diogenes ? 

Tri. You should not have paid him anything, sir, for the 
tub would not hold. You see the contents are run out. 

Old F. No jesting, sir ; this is no laughing matter. Your 
follies have tired me out. 1 verily believe you have taken 



164 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

the whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have 
been of fifty different minds in half an hour. 

Tri. And by that shown the versatility of my genius. 

Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir ! Let me see a little 
steadiness. You have never yet been constant to anything but 
extravagance. 

Tri. Yes, sir ; one thing more. 

Old F. What is that, sir? 

Tri. Affection for you. However my head may have wan- 
dered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the 
kindest of parents ; and from this moment I am resolved to 
lay my follies aside and pursue that line of conduct which 
will be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends. 

Old F. Well said, my boy — well said! You make me 
happy indeed ! Now, then, my dear Tristram, let me know 
what you really mean to do. 

Tri. To study the law. 

OldF. The law! 

Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. 

Old F. No! 

Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed. 

Old F. Better and better! I am overjoyed. Why, 'tis the 
very thing I wished. Now I am happy! [Tristram makes 
gestures as if speaking.'] See how his mind is engaged ! 

Tri. Gentlemen of the jury — 

Old F. Why, Tristram ! 

Tri. This is a cause — 

Old F. Oh, my dear boy ! I forgive you all your tricks. I 
see something about you now that I can depend on. [Tristram 
continues making gestures."] 

Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause — 

Old F. Bravo, bravo ! Excellent boy ! I'll go and order 
your books directly. 

Tri. 'Tis done, sir. 

OldF. What, already? 

Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books when I first 
thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law. 



THE WEATHERCOCK. 165 

Old F. What ! do you mean to read by the foot ? 

Tri. By the foot, sir ; that is the only way to become a solid 
lawyer. 

Old F. Twelve square feet of learning ! Well ! 

Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber. 

Old F. A barber! What, is he to teach you to shave close? 

Tri. He is to shave one half my head, sir. 

Old F. You will excuse me if I cannot perfectly understand 
what that has to do with the study of the law. 

Tri. Did you never hear of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian 
orator ? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up 
in a coal-cellar. 

Old F. Ah, he was perfectly right to lock himself up, after 
having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly 
would have made rather an odd figure abroad. 

Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism 
of his countrymen — lightning in his eye and thunder in his 
voice; he pours forth a torrent of eloquence resistless in its 
force ; the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks ; he de- 
nounces, and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers; he 
exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impending 
ruin ; he threatens the tyrant, they grasp their swords ; he calls 
for vengeance, their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, and 
thousands reverberate the cry ! One soul animates a nation, 
and that soul is the soul of the orator ! 

Old F. Oh what a figure he will make on the King's Bench ! 
But come, I will tell you what my plan is, and then you will 
see how happily this determination of yours will further it. 
You have [Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speaking'] 
often heard me speak of my friend Briefwit, the barrister. 

Tri. Who is against me in this cause. 

Old F. He is a most learned lawyer. 

Tri. But as I have justice on my side — 

Old F. Zounds ! he doesn't hear a word I say ! Why, Tris- 
tram ! 

Tri. I beg your pardon, sir ; I was prosecuting my studies. 

Old F. Now attend. 



166 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Tri. As my learned friend observes — Go on, sir; I am 
all attention. 

Old F. Well, my friend the counselor — 

Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen 
of the law always — 

Old F. Well, well, my learned friend — 

Tri. A black patch ! 

Old F. Will you listen and be silent ? 

Tri. I am mute as a judge. 

Old, F. My friend, I say, has a ward who is very handsome, 
and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you 
a charming wife. 

Tri. This is an action — 

Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you 
to my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness 
and his gravity — 

Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant. 

Old F. But now you are grown serious and steady, and 
have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring you 
together ; you will obtain his good opinion, and all the rest 
follows, of course. 

Tri. A verdict in my favor. 

Old F. You marry and sit down, happy for life. 

Tri. In the King's Bench. 

Old F. Bravo ! Ha, ha, ha ! But now run to your study — 
run to your study, my dear Tristram, and I'll go and call upon 
the counselor. 

Tri. I remove by habeas corpus. 

Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. [iZwr- 
rying him off.'] 

Tri. Gentlemen of the jury, this is a cause — [Exit] 

Old F. The inimitable boy ! I am now the happiest father 
living. What genius he has ! He'll be lord chancellor one 
day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he has talents. Oh 
how I long to see him at the bar ! 

John Till Allingham. 



LYRICS BY TENNYSON. 



167 




79.— LYRICS BY TENNYSON. 



THE GOLDEN YEAR. 

We sleep, and wake, and sleep, but all things move; 
The Sun flies forward to his brother Sun ; 
The dark Earth follows wheeled in her ellipse ; 
And human things returning on themselves 
Move onward, leading up the golden year. 

Ah, though the times when some new thought can bud 
Are but as poets' seasons when they flower, 
Yet seas that daily gain upon the shore 
Have ebb and flow conditioning their march, 
And slow and sure comes up the golden year. 

Then wealth no more shall rest in mounded heaps, 

But smit with freer light shall slowly melt 

In many streams to fatten lower lands, 

And light shall spread, and man be liker man, 

Through all the seasons of the golden year. 



168 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens? 
If all the world were falcons, what of that ? 
The wonder of the eagle were the less, 
But he not less the eagle. Happy days 
Roll onward, leading up the golden year ! 

Fly, happy, happy sails, and bear the Press — 
Fly, happy with the mission of the Cross ; 
Knit land to land, and, blowing havenward, 
With silks, and fruits, and spices clear of toll, 
Enrich the markets of the golden year. 

But we grow old. Ah, when shall all men's good 
Be each man's rule, and universal peace 
Lie like a shaft of light across the land, 
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, 
Through all the circles of the golden year ? 

ii. 
memories. 

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean ; 
Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
In looking oh the happy autumn fields, 
And thinking of the days that are no more. 

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail 
That brings our friends up from the underworld, 
Sad as the last which reddens over one 
That sinks with all we love below the verge ; 
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. 

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns 

The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds 

To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 

The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ; 

So sad, so strange, the days that are no more, 



LYRICS BY TENNYSON. 169 

Dear as remembered kisses after death, 
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned 
On lips that are for others ; deep as love, 
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret, 
Oh death in life, the days that are no more ! 

in. 

BUGLE SONG. 

The splendor falls on castle walls, 

And snowy summits old in story ; 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 

And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ; 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying ! 

Oh hark, oh hear ! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going ! 
Oh sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
Blow ! let us hear the purple glens replying ; 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying ! 

Oh love, they die in yon rich sky ; 

They faint on hill, or field, or river: 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 

And grow for ever and for ever. 
Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying ! 

IV. 
WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA. 

Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet ! 
Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street ! 
Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet, 
Scatter the blossoms under her feet! 
Break, happy land, into earlier flowers ! 
Make music, O bird, in the new budded bowers . 
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours ! 

15 



170 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Warble, O bugle, and, trumpet, blare ! 
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers ! 
Flames, on the windy headland flare ! 
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire ! 
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air ! 
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire ! 
Welcome her, welcome the land's desire. 

v. 

INDEPENDENCE ON FORTUNE. 

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud ; 
Turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm and cloud 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown ; 
With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; 
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. 

Smile, and we smile, the lords of many lands ; 
Frown, and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; 
For man is man, and master of his fate. 

Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; 
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud ; 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 

VI. 
THE FOOLISH VIRGINS. 

Late, late, so late ! and dark the night and chill ! 
Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still. 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

No light had we — for that we do repent ; 
And learning this, the Bridegroom will relent. 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

No light, so late ! and dark and chill the night ! 
Oh, let us in, that we may find the light ! 
Too late, too late ! ve cannot enter now. 



CONDEMNATION OF SOCRATES. 



Ill 



Have we not heard the Bridegroom is so sweet ? 
Oh, let us in, though late, to kiss his feet. 
No, no, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 




SOCRATES. 



80.— CONDEMNATION OF SOCRATES. 

Socrates was the reverse of a skeptic. No man ever looked 
upon life with a more positive and practical eye. No man 
ever pursued his mark with a clearer perception of the road 
which he was to travel. No man ever 
combined, in like manner, the absorb- 
ing enthusiasm of a missionary with 
the acuteness, the originality, the in- 
ventive resources and the generalizing 
comprehension of a philosopher. 

And yet this man was condemned to 
death — condemned by a hostile tribu- 
nal of more than five hundred citizens 
of Athens, drawn at hazard from all 
classes of society. In the most momen- 
tous trial that up to that time the world had witnessed, a 
majority of six turned the scale. And the vague charges on 
which Socrates was condemned were that he was a vain bab- 
bler, a corrupter of youth and a setter-forth of strange gods. 

It would be tempting to enlarge on the closing scene of his 
life — a scene which Plato has invested with such immortal 
glory — on the affecting farewell to the judges ; on the long 
thirty days which passed in prison before the execution of the 
verdict ; on his playful equanimity amid the uncontrollable 
emotions of his companions ; on the gathering in of that sol- 
emn evening when the fading of the sunset hues on the top 
of the Athenian hills was the signal that the last hour was at 
hand ; on the introduction of the fatal hemlock. 

And then there should be represented the immovable coun- 
tenance of Socrates, the firm hand, the burst of frantic lament- 
ation from all his friends, as, with his habitual ease and cheer- 



172 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

fulness, he drained the cup to its dregs; then the solemn 
silence enjoined by himself; the pacing to and fro; the strong 
religious persuasions attested by his last words ; the cold palsy • 
of the poison creeping from the extremities to the heart ; the 
gradual torpor ending in death. But I must forbear. 

Oh for a modern spirit like his ! Oh for one hour of 
Socrates ! Oh for one hour of that voice whose questioning 
would make men see what they knew and what they did not 
know, what they meant and what they only thought they 
meant, what they believed in truth and- what they only be- 
lieved in name, wherein they agreed and wherein they differed ! 

That voice is indeed silent, but there is a voice in each 
man's heart and conscience which, if we will, Socrates has 
taught us to use rightly. That voice still enjoins us to 
give to ourselves a reason for the hope that is in us — both 
hearing and asking questions. It tells us that the fancied re- 
pose which self-inquiry disturbs is more than compensated by 
the real repose which it gives, that a wise questioning is the 
half of knowledge, and that a life without self-examination is 
no life at all. 



81.— INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. CORRY. 

The following speech was delivered in the Irish Parliament, February 
14, 1800, in reply to Mr. Corry, who had said that Grattan, instead of. 
having a voice in the councils of his country, should have been standing 
as a culprit at the bar. A duel, in which Corry was wounded in the arm, 
was provoked by this severe retort from Grattan. We do not commend 
the spirit of either the retort or of the duel, but the former has been 
rarely pai'alleled in power since the days of Demosthenes. 

Has the gentleman done ? Has he completely done ? He 
was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his 
speech. There was scarce a word that he uttered that was not 
a violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call 
him to order. Why? Because the limited talents of some 
men render it impossible for them to be severe without being 
unparliamentary. But before I sit down I shall show him 
how to be severe and parliamentary at the same time. On 
any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable in treating 



INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. CORRY. 173 

with silent contempt anything which might fall from that hon- 
orable member ; but there are times when the insignificance of 
the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. 

I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under 
when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view 
of our characters, public and private, there is nothing he could 
say which would injure me. The public would not believe the 
charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge were made 
by an honest man, I would answer it in the manner I shall do 
before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it as if it were not 
made by an honest man. 

The honorable gentleman has called me " an unimpeached 
traitor." I ask, Why not "traitor," unqualified by an epithet? 
I will tell him : it was because he dare not. It was the act of 
a cow r ard who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to 
give the blow. I will not call him villain, because it would 
be unparliamentary, and he is a privy councilor. I will not 
call him fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the 
exchequer. 

But I say he is one who has abused the privilege of Parlia- 
ment and freedom of debate, to the uttering language which, 
if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a blow. 
I care not how high his station, how low his character, how 
contemptible his speech ; whether a privy councilor or a para- 
site, my answer would be a blow. 

He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. 
The charge is utterly, totally and meanly false ! Does the 
honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of Lords 
for the foundation of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove to 
the committee there was a physical impossibility of that report 
being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my conduct, 
whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought 
himself into power by a false glare of courage or not. 

The right honorable gentleman says I fled from the country 
after exciting rebellion, and that I have returned to raise 
another. The charge is false. The civil war had not com- 
menced when I left the kingdom, and I could not have re- 

15* 



174 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

turned without taking part. On the one side there was the 
camp of the rebel, on the other the camp of the minister, a 
greater traitor than the rebel. The stronghold of the consti- 
tution was nowhere to be found. 

I agree that the rebel who rose against the government 
should have suffered, but I missed on the scaffold the right 
honorable gentleman. Two desperate parties were in arms 
against the constitution. The right honorable gentleman 
belonged to one of those parties, and deserved death. I could 
not join the rebel, I could not join the government. I was 
therefore absent from a scene where I could not be active with- 
out self-reproach, nor indifferent with safety. 

Many honorable gentlemen thought differently from me ; I 
respect their opinions, but I keep my own, and I think now, 
as I thought then, that the treason of the minister against the 
liberties of the people was infinitely worse than the rebellion 
of the people against the minister. 

I have returned, not, as the right honorable member has 
said, to raise another storm ; I have returned to discharge an 
honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that conferred a 
great reward for past services, which, I am proud to say, was 
not greater than my desert. I have returned to protect that 
constitution, of which I was the parent and the founder, from 
the assassination of such men as the honorable gentleman and 
his unworthy associates. They are corrupt, they are seditious, 
and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy against their 
country. 

I have returned to refute a libel as false as it is malicious, 
given to the public under the appellation of a report of the 
committee of the Lords. Here I stand for impeachment or 
trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable gentleman, I 
defy the government, I defy their whole phalanx : let them 
come forth ! I tell the ministers I shall neither give them 
quarter nor take it. I am here to lay the shattered remains 
of my constitution on the floor of this House in defense of the 
liberties of my country. 

Henry Grattan, 1746-1820. 



ROME. 



175 




82.— ROME. 

Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! 

The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, 
Lone mother of dead empires ! and control 

In their shut breasts their petty misery. 
What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see 

The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way 
O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye 

Whose agonies are evils of a day — 

A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. 



The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, 

Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe, 
An empty urn within her withered hands, 

Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; 
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now ; 

The very sepulchres lie tenantless 
Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow, 

Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? 

Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress ! 

The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood and Fire 
Have dealt upon the seven-hilled city's pride ; 

She saw her glories star by star expire, 
And up the steep barbarian monarchs ride 



176 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Where the car climbed the capitol ; far and wide 
Temple and tower went down, nor left a site : 

Chaos of ruins ! who shall trace the void, 
O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light, 
And say, " here was, or is," where all is doubly night ? 

The double night of ages, and of her, 

Night's daughter, Ignorance, hath wrapped and wrap 
All round us ; we but feel our way to err : 

The ocean hath his chart, the stars their map, 
And Knowledge spreads them on her ample lap ; 

But Rome is as the desert, where we steer 
Stumbling o'er recollections ; now we clap 

Our hands, and cry " Eureka ! " "It is clear," 

When but some false mirage of ruin rises near. 

Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! 

The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day 
When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass 

The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! 
Alas for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, 

And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be 
Her resurrection ; all beside — decay, 

Alas for earth, for never shall we see 

That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free ! 

Lord Byron, 1788-1824. 



83.— ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. 

I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this House ; I do not rise 
to supplicate you to be merciful toward the nation to which I 
belong — toward a nation which, though subject to England, 
yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nation ; it has been 
treated as such by this country, as may be proved by history 
and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call upon this 
House, as you value the liberty of England, not to allow the 
present nefarious bill to pass. 



ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. -177 

In it are involved the liberties of England, the liberty of the 
press and of every other institution dear to Englishmen. 
Against the bill I protest, in the name of the Irish people, and 
in the face of Heaven. I treat with scorn the puny and pitiful 
assertions that grievances are not to be complained of, that 
our redress is not to be agitated ; for in such cases remon- 
strances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too vio- 
lent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair claims 
are met, and under what tyranny the people suffer. 

The clause which does away with trial by jury — what in 
the name of Heaven is it, if it is not the establishment of a 
revolutionary tribunal ? It drives the judge from his bench, 
it does away with that which is more sacred than the throne 
itself — that for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, 
your commons assemble. If ever I doubted before of the suc- 
cess of our agitation for repeal, this bill, this infamous bill — 
the way in which it has been received by the House ; the man- 
ner in which its opponents have been treated; the personali- 
ties to which they have been subjected ; the yells with which 
one of them has this night been greeted, — all these things dis- 
sipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete and early 
triumph. 

Do you think those yells will be forgotten ? Do you sup- 
pose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and 
insulted country — that they will not be whispered in her green 
valleys and heard from her lofty hills? Oh they will be 
heard there ! Yes, and they will not be forgotten. The youth 
of Ireland will bound with indignation ; they will say, " We 
are eight millions, and you treat us thus, as though we were no 
more to your country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey !" 

I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience 
and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout, 
and I now protest against it, as harsh, oppressive, uncalled for, 
unjust — as establishing an infamous precedent by retaliating 
crime against crime, as tyrannous — cruelly and vindictively 
tyrannous ! 

Daniel O'Connell, 1775-1847. 
M 



178. OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

84.— ON RECONCILIATION WITH AMERICA. 

January 20, 1775. 

Dr. Franklin, who was present at the debate, said of this speech that 
"he had seen, in the course of his life, sometimes eloquence without 
wisdom, and often wisdom without eloquence ; in the present in- 
stance he saw both united, and both, as he thought, in the highest de- 
gree possible." 

America, my lords, cannot be reconciled to this country — 
she ought not to be reconciled — till the troops of Britain 
are withdrawn. How can America trust you, with the bayonet 
at her breast ? How can she suppose that you mean less than 
bondage or death ? I therefore move that an address be pre- 
sented to his Majesty, advising that immediate orders be de- 
spatched to General Gage for removing his Majesty's forces 
from the town of Boston. The way must be immediately 
opened for reconciliation. It will soon be too late. An hour 
now lost in allaying ferments in America may produce years 
of calamity. 

Never will I desert, for a moment, the conduct of this 
weighty business. Unless nailed to my bed by the extremity 
of sickness, I will pursue it to the end. I will knock at the 
door of this sleeping and confounded ministry, and will, if it 
be possible, rouse them to a sense of their danger. 

I contend not for indulgence but for justice to America. 
What is our right to persist in such cruel and vindictive acts 
against a loyal, respectable people? They say you have no 
right to tax them without their consent. They say truly. 
Representation and taxation must go together ; they are in- 
separable. I therefore urge and conjure your lordships imme- 
diately to adopt this conciliating measure. If illegal violences 
have been, as it is said, committed in America, prepare the 
way — open the door of possibility — for acknowledgment and 
satisfaction ; but proceed not to such coercion — such proscrip- 
tion ; cease your indiscriminate inflictions ; amerce not thirty 
thousand, oppress not three millions, irritate them not to un- 
appeasable rancor, for the fault of forty or fifty. 

Such severity of injustice must for ever render incurable the 



CITY MEN IN THE COUNTRY. 179 

wounds you have inflicted. What though you march from 
town to town, from province to province ? What though you 
enforce a temporary and local submission ? How shall you 
secure the obedience of the country you leave behind you in 
your progress ? How grasp the dominion of eighteen hundred 
miles of continent, populous in numbers, strong in valor, lib- 
erty and the means of resistance ? 

The spirit which now resists your taxation in America is 
the same which formerly opposed loans, benevolences and ship- 
money in England — the same spirit which called all England 
on its legs, and by the Bill of Rights vindicated the English 
constitution — the same spirit which established the great fun- 
damental essential maxim of your liberties, that no subject of 
England shall be taxed but by his own consent. This glorious 
Whig spirit animates three millions in America who prefer 
poverty with liberty to gilded chains and sordid affluence, 
and who will die in defense of their rights as men, as free- 
men. 

What shall oppose this spirit, aided by the congenial flame 
glowing in the breast of every Whig in England ? " 'Tis lib- 
erty to liberty engaged" that they will defend themselves, 
their families and their country. In this great cause they are 
immovably allied : it is the alliance of God and nature, im- 
mutable, eternal, fixed as the firmament of heaven. 

Lord Chatham. 



85.— CITY MEN IN THE COUNTRY. 

Come back to your mother, ye children, for shame, 
Who have wandered like truants for riches or fame ! 
With a smile on her face and a sprig in her cap, 
She calls you to feast from her bountiful lap. 

Come out from your alleys, your courts and your lanes, 
And breathe, like young eagles, the air of our plains ; 
Take a whiff* from our fields, and your excellent wives 
Will declare it's all nonsense insuring your lives. 



180 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Come, you of the law, who can talk, if you please, 
Till the man in the moon will allow it's a cheese, 
And leave " the old lady that never tells lies " 
To sleep with her handkerchief over her eyes. 

Ye healers of men, for a moment decline 

Your feats in the rhubarb and ipecac line ; 

While you shut up your turnpike, your neighbors can go 

The old roundabout road to the regions below. 

You clerk, on whose ears are a couple of pens, 
And whose head is an ant-hill of units and tens, 
Though Plato denies you, we welcome you still 
As a featherless biped, in spite of your quill. 

Poor drudge of the city, how happy he feels, 

With the burrs on his legs and the grass at his heels, 

No dodger behind his bandannas to share, 

No constable growling, " You mustn't walk there ! " 

In yonder green meadow, to memory dear, 

He slaps a musquito and brushes a tear ; 

The dew-drops hang round him on blossoms and shoots ; 

He breathes but one sigh for his youth and his boots. 

There stands the old schoolhouse, hard by the old church; 
That tree at its side had the flavor of birch : 
Oh, sweet were the days of his juvenile tricks, 
Though the prairie of youth had so many " big licks ! " 

By the side of yon river he weeps and he slumps, 
The boots fill with water, as if they were pumps ; 
Till, sated with rapture, he steals to his bed, 
With a glow in his heart and a cold in his head. 

'Tis past — he is dreaming — I see him again ; 
The ledger returns as by legerdemain ; 
His neckcloth is damp with an easterly flaw, 
And he holds in his fingers an omnibus straw. 



REPEAL CLAIMED AS A RIGHT. 181 

He dreams the chill gust is a blossomy gale, 
That the straw is a rose from his dear native vale ; 
And murmurs, unconscious of space and of time, 
" A. 1 — Extra super. — Ah, isn't it prime ! " 

Oh what are the prizes we perish to win 

To the first little " shiner " we caught with a pin ! 

No soil upon earth is as dear to our eyes 

As the soil we first stirred in terrestrial pies ! 

Then come from all parties and parts to our feast ; 
Though not at the " Astor," we'll give you, at least, 
A bite of an apple, a seat on the grass, 
And the best of old — water — at nothing a glass. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



86.— REPEAL CLAIMED AS A RIGHT. 

January 20, 1775. 

It is not repealing this or that act of Parliament — it is not 
repealing a piece of parchment — that can restore America to 
our bosom. You must repeal her fears and her resentments, 
and you may then hope for her love and gratitude. But now, 
insulted with an armed force posted at Boston, irritated with 
a hostile array before her eyes, her concessions, if you could 
force them, would be suspicious and insecure, the dictates of 
fear and the extortions of force ! But it is more than evident 
that you cannot force them, principled and united as they are, 
to your unworthy terms of submission. Repeal, therefore, my 
lords, I say ! 

But bare repeal will not satisfy this enlightened and spirited 
people. You must go through the work. You must declare 
you have no right to tax. Then they may trust you. There 
is no time to be lost. Every moment is big with dangers. 
While I am speaking, the decisive blow may be struck, and 
millions involved in the consequence. The very first drop of 
blood shed in civil and unnatural war will make a wound 

16 



182 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



which years, perhaps ages, may not heal. It will be immed- 
icab'ile vulnus. 

When your lordships look at the papers transmitted to us 
from America — when you consider their decency, firmness 
and wisdom — you cannot but respect their cause, and wish to 
make it your own. I must declare and avow that in the 
master States of the world I know not the people nor the 
senate who, under such a complication of difficult circum- 
stances, can stand in preference to the delegates of America 
assembled in General Congress at Philadelphia. For genuine 
sagacity, for singular moderation, for solid wisdom, manly 
spirit, sublime sentiments and simplicity of language — for 
everything respectable and honorable — they stand unrivaled. 

I trust it is obvious to your lordships that all attempts to 
impose servitude upon such men, to establish despotism over 
such a mighty continental nation, must be vain, must be fatal. 
This wise people speak out. They do not hold the language 
of slaves. They tell you what they mean. They do not ask 
you to repeal your laws as a favor. They claim it as a right 
— they demand it. They tell you they will not submit 
to them. And I tell you the acts must be repealed. We 
shall be forced ultimately to retract. Let us retract while we 
can, not when we must. I say we must necessarily undo these 
violent, oppressive acts. They must be repealed. You will 
repeal them. I pledge myself for it that you will, in the 
end, repeal them. I stake my reputation on it. I will con- 
sent to be taken for an idiot if they are not finally repealed.* 

Avoid, then, this humiliating, this disgraceful necessity. 
Every motive of justice and of policy, of dignity and of pru- 
dence, urges you to allay the ferment in America by a re- 
moval of your troops from Boston, by a repeal of your acts 
of Parliament. On the other hand, every danger and every 
hazard impend to deter you from perseverance in your present 
ruinous measures — foreign war hanging over your heads by 

* This prediction was verified. After a fruitless war of three years, the 
repeal of the offensive acts was sent out as a peace-offering to the col- 
onists, but it was too late. 



THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. 



183 



a slight and brittle thread — France and Spain watching your 
conduct, and waiting the maturity of your errors ! 

To conclude, my lords : if the ministers thus persevere in 
misadvising and misleading the king, I will not say that they 
can alienate the affections of his subjects from the crown, but 
I will affirm that they will make his crown not worth his 
wearing ; I will not say that the king is betrayed, but I will 
pronounce that the kingdom is undone. 

Lord Chatham. 




VIEW OF LUCKNOW. 



87.— THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. 

In the summer of 1857 the British garrison in Lucknow 
were reduced to perilous straits. They were besieged by the 
native rebels in a largely outnumbering force. Cruel, vindic- 
tive and remorseless, these mutineers, could they enter the 
city, would put all the men, women and children to a fearful 
death. They had advanced their batteries and mines so far 
that in less than an hour the city must fall, unless relief 
should be at hand. And relief was at hand, though no one 
was aware of it. Havelock with 2500 men was approaching, 



184 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

but amid the din and smoke of the cannonade nothing could 
be heard or seen. 

" On every side," says a lady who was present, " death 
stared us in the face. No human skill could avert it any 
longer. The engineers told us that soon all would be over. 
We women strove to encourage one another, and to perform 
such light duties as we could. I had gone out to try and make 
myself useful, in company with Jessie Brown, the wife of a cor- 
poral in my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had been in a 
state of restless excitement, and at last, overcome with fatigue, 
she lay down, wrapped up in her plaid, on the ground. 

" She fell, at length, into a profound slumber, motionless 
and apparently breathless, her head resting in my lap. I 
myself could no longer resist the inclination to sleep, in spite 
of the continual roar of the cannon. Suddenly I was roused 
by a wild scream close to my ear ; and my companion started 
upright beside me, her arms raised and her head bent forward, 
in the attitude of listening. A look of intense delight broke 
over her countenance ; she grasped my hand, drew me toward 
her, and exclaimed, ' Do you not hear it ? I'm not dreaming. 
I hear the slogan of the Highlanders. We're saved — saved !' 

" Then, kneeling down, she prayed with passionate fervor. 
I was bewildered ; my English ears heard only the roar of 
artillery, and I thought my poor Jessie was raving ; but she 
darted to the batteries, and cried to the men, ' Courage ! cour- 
age! Hark to the slogan — the slogan of the Macgregors, 
the grandest of them all ! Here's help at last !' The soldiers 
ceased firing, and all listened in intense anxiety. Gradually, 
however, there rose a murmur of disappointment, and the 
wailing of the women who had flocked to the spot burst out 
anew as the colonel shook his head. Our dull lowland ears 
heard nothing but the rattle of musketry. 

"A few moments more of suspense, and Jessie, who had 
sunk on the ground, sprang to her feet, and cried, in a voice 
so clear and piercing that it was heard along the whole line, 
' Will ye believe it now t The slogan of the Macgregors has 
ceased, indeed, but it is now the slogan of the Campbells — 



LITTLE BILLEE. 185 



The Campbells are coming, ho, ho! ho, ho! Do ye hear? 
Do ye hear ? ' 

" At that moment we seemed indeed to hear the voice of 
deliverance in the distance ; the pibroch of the Highlanders 
brought us tidings of relief, for now there was no longer any 
doubt of the fact that the Campbells were coming. That 
sharp, penetrating, ceaseless sound which rose above all other 
sounds could come neither from the advance of the enemy 
nor from the work of the sappers. No, it was indeed the blast 
of the Scottish bagpipes, now shrill and harsh, as threatening 
vengeance on the foe, then in softer tones seeming to promise 
succor to friends. 

" Never, surely, was such a scene as that which followed. 
All, by one simultaneous impulse, fell upon their knees, and 
nothing was heard but bursting sobs and the murmured voice 
of prayer. Then all arose, and from a thousand lips rang out 
a great shout of joy. We were saved." On came Havelock 
and his men ; they hewed a passage through the rebel masses 
up to the very walls of Lucknow, and snatched their country- 
men from the horrors of their impending fate. 



88.— LITTLE BILLEE. 

There were three sailors of Bristol city 
Who took a boat and went to sea, 

But first with beef and captain's biscuits 
And pickled pork they loaded she. 

There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, 
And the youngest he was little Billee. 

Now, when they got as far as the equator, 
They'd nothing left but one split pea. 

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, 

" I am extremely hungaree." 
To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, 

" We've nothing left, we must eat we." 

16* 



186 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, 
" With one another we shouldn't agree ! 
There's little Bill, he's young and tender, 
We're old and tough, so let's eat he." 

" Oh, Billy, we're going to kill and eat you, 
So undo the button of your chemie." 
When Billy received this information, 
He used his pocket handkerchie. 

"First let me say my catechism, 

Which my poor mammy taught to me." 

" Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy, 
While Jack pulled out his snickersee. 

So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast, 
And down he fell on his bended knee. 

He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment 
When up he jumps : " There's land I see : 

" Jerusalem and Madagascar, 

And North and South Amerikee : 
There's the British nag a-riding at anchor, 
With Admiral Napier, K. C. B." 

But when they got aboard of the admiral's, 
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee ; 

But as for little Bill, he made him 
The captain of a seventy-three. 

W. M. Thackeray. 

89.— CAIUS GRACCHUS TO THE ROMANS. 

Caius Gracchus, born B. C. 163, was the son of that Cornelia who once 
said, pointing to her two boys, "These are my jewels!" Tiberius, his 
elder brother, an advocate of popular rights, was slain by the aristo- 
cratic party. 

It is now ten years, O Romans ! since my brother, Tiberius 
Gracchus, was elected your tribune. In what a condition did 
he find you ! The great body of the people pining in abject 



CAWS GRACCHUS TO THE ROMANS. 187 

poverty; thousands suffering for the want of daily bread, 
eager to labor, but without a clod of earth they could call their 
own ! A few men, rapacious, insatiate, reckless, claiming to be 
the aristocracy — the aristocracy ! — having amassed enormous 
wealth by extortion and fraud, lorded it over you with re- 
morseless rigor. 

The class of small landed proprietors had disappeared. Mer- 
cenary idlers, their fingers itching for bribes, political trick- 
sters, hungry usurers, desperate gamblers, all the vilest abet- 
tors of lawless power, had usurped the places of men once the 
strength and glory of the republic. Incalculable distress 
among the millions, unbounded Avealth and prodigality among 
the hundreds — such was the state of things. 

The rich might crush and plunder the poor with impunity, 
for your rulers were corrupt, your judges cowardly and ve- 
nal, and money could buy them all to aid in any act of 
spoliation. And bribery at elections — open, unblushing, fla- 
grant — kept in power the men who were thus sapping the life- 
blood of the country. Do I exaggerate ? Do I not rather too 
faintly picture the deep woe and degradation of the people — 
the rapacity, arrogance and depravity of their oppressors ? 

It was at such a time that Tiberius Gracchus presented him- 
self to you for the tribuneship, and was elected. His affection- 
ate heart had been wrung by the spectacle of your distresses. 
He had seen with indignation the atrocious system under 
which you were plundered and downtrodden. He resolved 
upon your rescue. He flung defiance at your domestic tyrants. 
He swiftly put an end to that system of fraud by which they 
robbed you of the public lands. 

No shelter of wealth, no privilege of rank or of high place, 
could save the guilty from his honest wrath, his fiery denun- 
ciation. In vain did they retort with the cheap words " dema- 
gogue ! " " factionist ! " " anarchist ! " There was that truth- 
fulness in his very tones, that simplicity and nobleness in his 
very bearing, that dignity and gentleness in his very rage 
against wrong, that carried conviction of his sincerity to every 
heart. 



188 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Oh how they grew pale with anger, those aristocrats, as they 
called themselves, when they felt their power melting away, 
when they saw the people recovering their rights, under the 
resistless eloquence of that young, devoted spirit ! He must 
be silenced, this audacious tribune, this questioner of the incor- 
ruptibility of the privileged classes, this friend and leader of 
the people — he must be silenced. A bloody revenge must 
be taken for the fears, which he has made these plunderers 
endure, of being deprived of their illegally-got possessions. 

Alas ! the foul deed was done. In a tumult instigated for 
the purpose your illustrious tribune, this champion of the 
poor, this friend of the friendless, was slain. His very body, 
which his friends sought from his murderers, was refused them, 
and your sacred river was made more sacred by receiving in 
its bosom all of Tiberius Gracchus that could perish. 

And now, men of Rome, if you ask, as those who fear me 
have asked, why have I left my questorship in Sardinia with- 
out leave from the Senate, here is my answer : I must either 
have come to you without leave or not at all. And if you ask 
why I have come at all, here is my reply: I have come to pre- 
sent myself for the office my brother held, and for serving you 
in which he was brutally murdered. 

I have come to vindicate his memory, to reinaugurate his 
policy. I have come — I avow it frankly — to strip the privi- 
leged classes of their privileges, to restore popular rights, to 
uplift the crushed, to bring down the oppressor. 

I come with clean hands, O Romans! with no coffers filled 
with gold from desolated provinces and a ruined people. I can 
offer no bribe for votes. I come back as poor as I went — ■ 
poor in all but hatred of tyrants and zeal to serve my coun- 
try. Shall I be your tribune ?* 

Sargent. 



* Caius Gracchus was elected tribune B. C. 124. He entered boldly upon 
his patriotic policy, and carried out many important reforms; but the 
aristocracy, growing desperate, induced a creature of their own to outbid 
him in extreme measures, and brought about a state of things which re- 
sulted in the defeat and subsequent death of Caius Gracchus. 



NO W. 



189 




90.— NOW. 

The venerable Past is past ; 

No louger in its shade we'll stay : 
'Twas good, no doubt — 'tis gone at last — 

There dawns another day ! 
Why should we sit where ivies creep, 
And shroud ourselves in charnels deep, 
Or the world's Yesterdays deplore ? 
Why should we see with dead men's eyes, 

Looking at Was from morn to night, 
When the beauteous Now, the divine To Be, 

Woo with their charms our living sight ? 
Why should we hear but echoes dull, 
When the world of sound, so beautiful, 

Will give us music of our own ? 
Why in the darkness will w T e grope, 
When the sun in heaven's resplendent cope 

Shines as bright as ever it shone ? 



190 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Abraham saw no brighter stars 

Than those which burn for me and thee ; 
When Homer heard the lark's sweet song, 

Or night-bird's lovelier melody, 
They were such sounds as Shakspeare heard, 
Or Chaucer, when he blessed the bird — 
Such lovely sounds as we can hear ! 

Great Plato saw the vernal year 
Send forth its tender flowers and shoots, 
And luscious autumn pour its fruits ; 
And we can see the lilies blow, 
The corn-fields wave, the rivers flow. 
For us all bounties of the earth, 
For us its wisdom, love and mirth, 
If we daily walk in the sight of God, 
And prize the gifts he has bestowed ! 

The Present needs us. Every age 
Bequeaths the next, for heritage, 
No lazy luxury or delight, 
But strenuous labor for the right ; 
For Now, the child and sire of Time, 

Demands the deeds of earnest men, 
To make it better than the Past, 

And stretch the circle of its ken. 

For Now is ever good and fair ; 
'Tis ever new and ever bright, 
Would we but fashion it aright, 
Of past infinitude the heir, 
And we of it. So let us live 
That from the Past we may receive 
Light from the Now, from Now a joy 
Fate shall not mar, nor Time destroy ! 

Charles Mackay. 



FUSS AT FIEES. 191 



91.— FUSS AT FIRES. 

It having been announced to me, my young friends, that 
you were about forming a fire company, I have called you to- 
gether to give you such directions as long experience in a first- 
quality engine company qualifies me to communicate. The 
moment you hear an alarm of fire, scream like a pair of pan- 
thers. Run any way except the right way, for the farthest 
way round is the nearest way to the fire. If you happen to 
run on the top of a wood-pile, so much the better ; you can 
then get a good view of the neighborhood. 

If a light breaks on your view, " break " for it immediately, 
but be sure you don't jump into a bow-window. Keep yelling 
all the time; and if you can't make night hideous enough 
yourself, kick all the dogs you come across, and set them yell- 
ing too ; 'twill help amazingly. A brace of cats dragged up 
stairs by the tail would be a " powerful auxiliary." 

When you reach the scene of the fire, do all you can to con- 
vert it into a scene of destruction. Tear down all the fences 
in the vicinity. If it be a chimney on fire, throw salt down 
it ; or if you can't do that, perhaps the best plan would be to 
jerk off the pump-handle and pound it down. Don't forget to 
yell all the while, as it will have a prodigious effect in fright- 
ening off the fire. The louder the better, of course, and the 
more ladies in the vicinity, the greater necessity for " doing it 
up brown." 

Should the roof begin to smoke, get to work in good earnest, 
and make any man " smoke " that interrupts you. If it is 
summer, and there are fruit trees in the lot, cut them down, to 
prevent the fire from roasting the apples. Don't forget to yell ! 
Should the stable be threatened, carry out the cow-chains. 
Never mind the horse ; he'll be alive and kicking ; and if his 
legs don't do their duty, let them pay for the roast. Ditto as 
to the hogs — let them save their own bacon or smoke for it. 

When the roof begins to burn, get a crow-bar and pry away 
the stone steps ; or if the steps be of wood, procure an axe and 
chop them up. Next, cut away the wash-boards in the base- 



192 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

ment story ; and if that don't stop the flames, let the chair- 
boards on the first floor share the same fate. Should the " de- 
vouring- element " still pursue the " even tenor of its way," 
you had better ascend to the second story. Pitch out the 
pitchers and tumble out the tumblers. Yell all the time ! 

If you find a baby abed, fling it into the second-story win- 
dow of the house across the way, but let the kitten carefully 
down in a work-basket. Then draw out the bureau drawers 
and empty their contents out of the back window, telling 
somebody below to upset the slop-barrel and rain-water hogs- 
head at the same time. Of course you will attend to the mir- 
ror. The farther it can be thrown, the more pieces will be 
made. If anybody objects, smash it over his head. 

Do not, under any circumstances, drop the tongs down from 
the second story ; the fall might break its legs, and render the 
poor thing a cripple for life. Set it straddle of your shoulders, 
and carry it down carefully. Pile the bed-clothes carefully 
on the floor, and throw the crockery out of the window. By 
the time you have attended to all these things, the fire will 
be arrested, or the building be burnt down. In either case 
your services will be no longer needed, and of course you re- 
quire no further directions. 



92.— THE SOUTH DURING- THE REVOLUTION. 

If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President — and I 
say it not in a boastful spirit — that may challenge comparison 
with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent and uncalculat- 
ing devotion to the Union, that State is South Carolina. Sir, 
from the very commencement of the Revolution up to this 
hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheer- 
fully made — no service she has ever hesitated to perform. 
She has adhered to you in your prosperity, but in your ad- 
versity she has clung to you with more than filial affection. 

No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs — ■ 



THE SOUTH DURING THE BE VOL' 193 

though deprived of her resources, divided by parties or sur- 
rounded with difficulties — the call of the country has been to 
her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the 
sound ; every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, 
and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together to 
the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common 
country. 

What, Bar, ~as the conduct of the South during the Rev- 
olution ? Sir, I honor Xew England for her conduct in that 
glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs 
to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South- They 
espoused the quarrel of their brethren with a generous 
which did not suffer them to stop to calculate their interest in 
the dispute. Favorites of the mother-country, pjssessed of 
neither ships nor seamen to create a commercial rivalship, 
they might have found in their situation a guarantee that 
their trade would be for ever fostered and protected by Great 
Britain. But trampling on all considerations either of interest 
or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and fighting for 
principle, periled all in the sacred cause of freedom. 

as there exhibited in the history of the world 
higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering and heroic 
endurance than by the Whigs of Carolina during the Revo- 
lution. The whole Si fa m the mountains to the sea, was 
overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits 
of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, or 
onsumed by the foe. The "plains of Carolina" drank 
up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black and smok- 
ing ruins marked the places which had been the habitations 
of her children. Driven from their homes into the gloomy 
and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of lib- 
erty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the example 
of her Sumpters and her Marions, proved by her conduct that 
though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was 
invincible 

Bobeki Y. Hay^z. 1791-18:: 



:: 



194 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




93.— THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD. 

This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling, 
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; 

But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing 
Startles the villages with strange alarms. 



Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, 
When the death angel touches those swift keys ! 

What loud lament and dismal Miserere 
Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, 
The cries of agony, the endless groan, 

Which, through the ages that have gone before us, 
In long reverberations reach our own. 

The tumult of each sacked and burning village, 
The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns, 

The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage, 
The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ; 



FALSE NOTIONS OF VIGOR. Vdb 

The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, 

The rattling musketry, the clashing blade, 
And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, 

The diapason of the cannonade ! 

Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, 

With such accursed instruments as these, 
Thou drownest nature's sweet and kindly voices, 

And j arrest the celestial harmonies ? 

Were half the power that fills the world with terror, 
Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, 

Given to redeem the human mind from error, 
There were no need of arsenals or forts. 

Down the dark future, through long generations, 
The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease ; 

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 

I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " 

Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals 
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ; 

But beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
The holy melodies of love arise. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



94.— FALSE NOTIONS OF VIGOR. 

I cannot describe the horror and disgust which I felt at 
hearing Mr. Perceval call upon the then ministry for measures 
of vigor in Ireland. If I lived at Hampstead upon stewed 
meats and claret, if I walked to church every Sunday before 
eleven young gentlemen of my own begetting, with their faces 
washed and their hair pleasantly combed, if the Almighty had 
blessed me with every earthly comfort, how awfully would I 
pause before I sent forth the flame and the sword over the cabins 
of the poor, brave, generous, open-hearted peasants of Ireland! 



196 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

How easy it is to shed human blood ; how easy it is to per- 
suade ourselves that it is our duty to do so, and that the de- 
cision has cost us a severe struggle ; how much, in all ages, 
have wounds and shrieks and tears been the cheap and vulgar 
resources of the rulers of mankind ; how difficult and how 
noble it is to govern in kindness, and to found an empire upon 
the everlasting basis of justice and affection ! 

But what do men call vigor? To let loose hussars, and to 
bring up artillery, to govern with lighted matches, and to cut, 
and push, and prime. I call this not vigor, but the sloth of 
cruelty and ignorance. The vigor I love consists in finding 
out wherein subjects are aggrieved, in relieving them, in study- 
ing the temper and genius of a people, in consulting their pre- 
judices, in selecting proper persons to lead and manage them 
in the laborious, watchful and difficult task of increasing pub- 
lic happiness by allaying each particular discontent. In this 
way only will Ireland ever be subdued. 

But this, in the eyes of Mr. Perceval, is imbecility and 
meanness ; houses are not broken open, women are not insult- 
ed, the people seem all to be happy — they are not ridden over 
by horses and cut by whips. Do you call this vigor ? Is this 
government ? 

Rev. Sydney Smith, 1771-1845. 



95.-PLAIN LANGUAGE PROM TRUTHFUL JAMES. 

Which I wish to remark — and my language is plain — 
That for ways that are dark, and for tricks that are vain, 
The heathen Chinee is peculiar, which the same I would rise 
to explain. 

Ah Sin was his name, and I shall not deny 
In regard to the same what that name might imply ; 
But his smile it was pensive and childlike, as I frequent re- 
marked to Bill Nye. 



PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES. 197 

It was August the third, and quite soft were the skies ; 
Which it might be inferred that Ah Sin was likewise, 
Yet he played it that day upon William and me in a way I 
despise. 

Which we had a small game, and Ah Sin took a hand ; 
It was euchre — the same he did not understand ; 
But he smiled as he sat at the table with the smile that was 
childlike and bland. 

Yet the cards they were stocked in a way that I grieve, 
And my feelings were shocked at the state of Nye's sleeve, 
Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, and the same with 
intent to deceive. 

But the hands that were played by that heathen Chinee 
And the points that he made were quite frightful to see, 
Till at last he put down a right bower, which the same Nye 
had dealt unto me. 

Then I looked up at Nye, and he gazed upon me ; 
And he rose with a sigh, and said, " Can this be ? 
We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor;" and he went for 
that heathen Chinee. 

In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand, 
But the floor it was strewed like the leaves on the strand 
With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding in the game " he 
did not understand." 

In his sleeves, which were long, he had twenty-four packs, 
Which was coming it strong, yet I state but the facts ; 
And we found on his nails, which were taper, what is frequent 
in tapers — that's wax. 

Which is why I remark — and my language is plain — 
That for ways that are dark, and for tricks that are vain, 
The heathen Chinee is peculiar, which the same I am free to 
maintain. 

Bret Harte. 

17* 



198 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

96.— ON THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION. 

Sir, I agree to this constitution, with all its faults — if they 
are such — because I think a general government necessary for 
us, and there is no form of government but what may be a 
blessing to the people if well administered, and I believe farther 
that this is likely to be well administered for a course of 
years, and can only end in despotism, as other forms have 
done before it, when the people shall become so corrupted as 
to need despotic government, being incapable of any other. 

I doubt, too, whether any other convention we can obtain 
may be able to make a better constitution. For when you 
assemble a number of men to have the advantage of their 
joint wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those men all their 
prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local 
interests and their selfish views. From such an assembly can 
a perfect production be expected? It therefore astonishes 
me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection 
as it does, and I think it will astonish our enemies, who are 
waiting with confidence to hear that our counsels are con- 



NOTHING TO WEAR. 199 

founded, like those of the builders of Babel, and that our 
States are on the point of separation, only to meet hereafter 
for the purpose of cutting one another's throats. 

Thus I consent, sir, to this constitution, because I expect no 
better, and because I am not sure that this is not the best. 
The opinions I have had of its errors I sacrifice to the public 
good. I have never whispered a syllable of them abroad. 
Within these walls they were born, and here they shall die. 
If every one of us, in returning to his constituents, were to 
report the objections he has had to it, and endeavor to gaiu 
partisans in support of them, we might prevent its being gen- 
erally received, and thereby lose all the salutary effects and 
great advantages resulting naturally in our favor among for- 
eign nations, as well as among ourselves, from our real or 
apparent unanimity. 

Much of the strength and efficacy of any government in 
procuring and securing happiness to the people depends on 
opinion — on the general opinion of the goodness of that gov- 
ernment, as well as of the wisdom and integrity of its governors. 
I hope, therefore, that for our own sakes, as a part of the 
people, and for the sake of our posterity, we shall act heartily 
and unanimously in recommending this constitution wherever 
our influence may extend, and turn our future thoughts and 
endeavors to the means of having it well administered. 

Benjamin Franklin. 1706-1790. 



97.— NOTHING TO WEAR. 

Miss Flora McFlimsey, of Madison Square, 
Has made three separate journeys to Paris, 

And her father assures me, each time she was there, 
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris 

Spent six consecutive weeks, without stopping, 

In one continuous round of shopping — 

Shopping alone and shopping together, 



200 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather, 
For all manner of things that a woman can put 
On the crown of her head, or the sole of her foot, 
Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist, 
Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced, 
Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow. 
In front or behind, above or below : 
Dresses for home, and the street, and the hall, 
Dresses for winter, spring, summer and fall ! 

And yet, tho' 'tis hardly three months since the day 

All this merchandise went in twelve carts up Broadway, 

This same Miss McFlimsey, of Madison Square, 

When asked to a ball, was in utter despair, 

Because she had nothing whatever to wear ! 

But the fair Flora's case is by no means surprising ; 

I find there exists the greatest distress 
In our female community, solely arising 

From this unsupplied destitution of dress, 
Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air 
With the pitiful wail of " Nothing to wear ! " 

Oh, ladies, dear ladies, the next sunny day, 
Please trundle your hoops just out of Broadway, 

To the alleys and lanes where misfortune and guilt 

Their children have gathered, their hovels have built ; 
AVhere hunger and vice, like twin beasts of prey, 

Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair ; 
Raise the rich, dainty dress and the fine broidered skirt, 
Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt, 

Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair 
To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old, 
Half starved and half naked, lie crouched from the cold ; 
See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet 
All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street ; 
Then home to your wardrobes, and say if you dare, 
Spoiled children of fashion, you've nothing to wear ! 



THE BELLS. 201 



And oh, if perchance there should be a sphere 
Where all is made right which so puzzles us here ; 
Where the glare and the glitter and tinsel of time 
Fade and die in the light of that region sublime ; 
Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense, 
Unscreened by its trappings, and shows, and pretense, 
Must be clothed for the life and the service above 
With purity, truth, faith, meekness and love, — 
O daughters of earth ! foolish virgins, beware ! 
Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear ! 

Wm. A. Butler. 



98.— THE BELLS. 

Hear the sledges with the bells — silver bells ! What a world 
of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, 
tinkle, in the icy air of night! While the stars that over- 
sprinkle all the heavens seem to twinkle with a crystalline 
delight. Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme, 
to the tintinnabulation that so musically wells from the bells, 
bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, from the jingling and the 
tinkling of the bells. 

Hear the mellow wedding-bells — golden bells ! What a 
world of happiness their harmony foretells ! Through the 
balmy air of night, how they ring out their delight ! From 
the molten-golden notes, all in tune, what a liquid ditty floats 
to the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats on the moon ! 
Oh, from out the sounding cells, what a gush of euphony 
voluminously wells ! How it swells ! How it dwells on the 
Future ! How it tells of the rapture that impels to the swing- 
ing and the ringing of the bells, bells, bells, of the bells, bells, 
bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, to the rhyming and the chiming 
of the bells ! 

Hear the loud alarum bells — brazen bells ! What a tale 
of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of 



202 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

night, how they scream out their affright ! Too much hor- 
rified to speak, they can only shriek, shriek, shriek, out of 
tune, in a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire — in a 
mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire leaping 
higher, higher, higher, with a desperate desire, and a resolute 
endeavor, now, now to sit, or never, by the side of the pale- 
faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells ! What a tale their 
terror tells of despair ! How they clang, and clash, and roar ! 
What a horror they outpour on the bosom of the palpitating 
air ! Yet the ear, it fully knows, by the twanging and the 
clanging, how the danger ebbs and flows ; yet the ear dis- 
tinctly tells, in the jangling and the wrangling, how the dan- 
ger sinks and swells, by the sinking or the swelling in the 
anger of the bells — of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, 
bells, in the clamor and the clangor of the bells. 

Hear the tolling of the bells — iron bells ! What a world 
of solemn thought their monody compels ! In the silence of 
the night, how we shiver with affright at the melancholy 
menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats from the 
rust within their throats is a groan. And the people, ah ! the 
people, they that dwell up in the steeple all alone, and who toll- 
ing, tolling, tolling, in that muffled monotone, feel a glory in 
so rolling on the human heart a stone : they are neither man 
nor woman, they are neither brute nor human — they are 
ghouls ; and their king it is who tolls ; and he rolls, rolls, rolls, 
rolls, a paean from the bells ! And his merry bosom swells 
with the paean of the bells! And he dances and he yells; 
keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme, to the 
paean of the bells — of the bells ; keeping time, time, time, in a 
sort of Runic rhyme, to the throbbing of the bells — of the 
bells, bells, bells, to the sobbing of the bells ; keeping time, 
time, time, as he knells, knells, knells, in a happy Runic 
rhyme, to the rolling of the bells — of the bells, bells, bells — 
to the tolling of the bells, of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, 
bells, bells, to the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 

Edgar A. Poe. 



THE GRANDMOTHER'S APOLOGY. 



203 




99.— THE GRANDMOTHER'S APOLOG-Y. 

And Willy, my eldest born, is gone, you say, little Anne? 
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looked like a man. 
And Willy's wife has written : she never was overwise, 
Never the wife for W T illy ; he wouldn't take my advice. 

For, Anne, you see, her father was not the man to save, 
Hadn't a head to manage, and drank himself into his grave. 
Pretty enough — very pretty ; but I was against it for one. 
Eh ! but he wouldn't hear me : and Willy, you say, is gone. 

Willy, my beauty, my eldest boy, the flower of the flock, 

Never a man could fling him, for Willy stood like a rock. 

Here's a leg for a babe of a week !" says the doctor; and he would be 

bound 
There was not his like that year in twenty parishes round. 



Strong of his hands, and strong on his legs, but still of his tongue ! 
I ought to have gone before him : I wonder he went so young. 
I cannot cry for him, Anne : I 'have not long to stay ; 
Perhaps I shall see him the sooner, for he lived far away. 

Why do you look at me, Anne? You think I am hard and cold ; 
But all my children have gone before me, I am so old: 
I cannot weep for Willy, nor can I weep for the rest ; 
Only at your age, Anne, I could have wept with the best. 



204 OXFORD 'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

For mine is a time of peace, it is not often I grieve ; 
I am oftener sitting at home in my father's farm at eve : 
And the neighbors come and laugh and gossip, and so do I ; 
I find myself often laughing at things that have long gone by. 

To be sure the preacher says our sins should make us sad, 
But mine is a time of peace, and there is grace to be had ; 
And God, not man, is the Judge of us all when life shall cease; 
And in this Book, little Anne, the message is one of peace. 

And age is a time of peace, so it be free from pain, 
And happy has been my life, but I would not live it again. 
I seem to be tired a little, that's all, and long for rest ; 
Only at your age, Anne, I could have wept with the best. 

So Willy has gone, my beauty, my eldest-born, my flower ; 
But how can I weep for Willy ? he has gone but for an hour — 
Gone for a minute, my son, from this room into the next ; 
I, too, shall go in a minute. What time have I to be vext ? 

And Willy's wife has written : she never was overwise. 
Get me my glasses, Anne; thank God that I keep my eyes. 
There is but a trifle left you when I shall have passed away. 
But stay with the old woman now : you cannot have long to stay. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



100.— AG-AINST MR. PITT,* 1741. 

Sir, I was unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate 
while it was carried on with calmness and decency by men 
who do not suffer the ardor of opposition to cloud their reason 
or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of this 
assembly does not admit. I have hitherto deferred to answer 
the gentleman who declaimed against the bill with such fluency 
of rhetoric and such vehemence of gesture — who charged the 
advocates for the expedients now proposed with having no re- 

* William Pitt, afterward Lord Chatham, and father of another William 
Pitt, whose fame equals, though it does not eclipse, that of his father. 
Both Walpole's remarks and Pitt's reply bear signs of touches from Dr. 
Jonnson's pen, in whose Register of Debates they first appeai'ed. 



AGAINST MB. PITT. 205 

gard to any interest but their own, and with making laws only 
to consume paper, and threatened them with the defection of 
their adherents and the loss of their influence upon this new 
discovery of their folly and their ignorance. Nor, sir, do I 
now answer him for any other purpose than to remind him 
how little the clamors of rage and the petulancy of invective 
contribute to the end for which this assembly is called together ; 
how little the discovery of truth is promoted, and the security 
of the nation established, by pompous diction and theatrical 
emotions. 

Formidable sounds and furious declamation, confident as- 
sertions and lofty periods, may affect the young and inexpe- 
rienced, and perhaps the gentleman may have contracted his 
habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own 
age than with such as have had more opportunities of acquir- 
ing knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating 
their sentiments. 

If the heat of his temper, sir, would suffer him to attend 
to those whose age and long acquaintance with business give 
them an indisputable right to deference and superiority, he 
would learn in time to reason rather than declaim, and to pre- 
fer justness of argument and an accurate knowledge of facts 
to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives, which may dis- 
turb the imagination for a moment, but which leave no last- 
ing impression on the mind. He will learn, sir, that to accuse 
and prove are very different, and that reproaches unsup- 
ported by evidence affect only the character of him who 
utters them. Excursions of fancy and flights of oratory are 
indeed pardonable in young men, but in no other ; and it would 
surely contribute more, even to the purpose for which some 
gentlemen appear to speak — that of depreciating the con- 
duct of the administration — to prove the inconveniences and 
injustice of this bill than barely to assert them, with whatever 
magnificence of language or appearance of zeal, honesty or 
compassion. 

Sir Robert Walpole, 1676-1745. 



18 



206 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

101.— REPLY TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE, 1741. 

Sir, the atrocious crime of being a young man, which the 
honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged 
upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny, but con- 
tent myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose fol- 
lies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who 
are ignorant in spite of their experience. 

Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, 
I will not, sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely 
age may become justly contemptible if the opportunities which 
it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice ap- 
pears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch 
who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, 
continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obsti- 
nacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or 
contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure 
him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be abhorred who, 
as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and 
become more wicked, with less temptation, who prostitutes 
himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the re- 
mains of his life in the ruin of his country. 

But youth, sir, is not my only crime ; I have been accused 
of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either im- 
ply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real 
sentiments and an adoption of the opinions and language of 
another man. 

In the first sense, sir, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, 
and deserves to be mentioned only to be despised. I am at 
liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and 
though perhaps I may have some ambition to please this gen- 
tleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very 
solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by 
age or modeled by experience. 

But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical be- 
havior, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall 
treat him as a calumniator and a villain ; nor shall any pro« 



BILL AND JOE. 207 



tection shelter him from the treatment he deserves. I shall, 
on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those 
forms within which wealth and dignity entrench themselves, 
nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment — age, which 
always brings with it one privilege, that of being insolent and 
supercilious without punishment. 

But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am 
of opinion that if I had acted a borrowed part I should have 
avoided their censure ; the heat that offended them is the ar- 
dor of conviction and that zeal for the service of my country 
which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I 
will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look 
in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors at 
whatever hazard to repel the aggressor and drag the thief to 
justice, whoever may protect him in his villainy, and whoever 
may partake of his plunder. 

Mr. Pitt (afterward Lord Chatham). 



102.— BILL AND JOE. 

Come, dear old comrade, you and I 
Will steal an hour from days gone by — 
The shining days when life was new, 
And all was bright as morning dew, 
The lusty days of long ago, 
When you were Bill and I was Joe. 

Your name may flaunt a titled trail, 
Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail ; 
And mine as brief appendix wear 
As Tarn O'Shanter's luckless mare ; 
To-day, old friend, remember still 
That I am Joe and you are Bill. 

You've won the great world's envied prize, 
And grand you look in people's eyes, 



208 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

With HON. and LL.D., 

In big brave letters, fair to see. 

Your fist, old fellow ! off they go ! 

How are you, Bill ? How are you, Joe ? 

You've worn the judge's ermine robe ; 
You've taught your name to half the globe ; 
You've sung mankind a deathless strain ; 
You've made the dead past live again : 
The world may call you what it will, 
But you and I are Joe and Bill. 

The chaffing young folks stare and say, 
" See those old buffers, bent and gray ; 
They talk like fellows in their teens ! 
Mad, poor old boys ! That's what it means," 
And shake their heads ; they little know 
The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe ; — 

How Bill forgets his hour of pride, 
While Joe sits smiling at his side ; 
How Joe, in spite of time's disguise, 
Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes — 
Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill 
As Joe looks fondly up at Bill. 

Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame ? 

A fitful tongue of leaping flame ; 

A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, 

That lifts a pinch of mortal dust : 

A few swift years, and who can show 

Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe ? 

The weary idol takes his stand, 
Holds out his bruised and aching hand, 
While gaping thousands come and go — 
How vain it seems, this empty show ! — 



FALSE COLORING LENT TO WAR. 209 

Till all at once his pulses thrill : 

Tis poor old Joe's " God bless you, Bill ! " 

And shall we breathe in happier spheres 
The names that pleased our mortal ears, 
In some sweet lull of harp and song, 
For earth-born spirits none too long, 
Just whispering of the world below, 
Where this was Bill, and that was Joe ? 

No matter ; while our home is here 
No sounding name is half so dear : 
When fades at length our lingering day, 
Who cares what pompous tombstones say ? 
Read on the hearts that love us still, 
Hie jacet Joe. Hie jacet Bill. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



103.— FALSE COLORING- LENT TO WAR. 

On" every side of me I see 
causes at work which go to 
spread a most delusive coloring 
over war, and to remove its shock- 
ing barbarities to the background 
of our contemplations altogether. 
I see it in the history which tells 
me of the superb appearance of 
the troops and the brilliancy of 
their successive charges. I see it 
in the poetry which lends the thomas chalmees. 

magic of its numbers to the narrative of blood, and transports 
its many admirers, as by its images and its figures and its 
nodding plumes of chivalry it throws its treacherous embel- 
lishments over a scene of legalized slaughter. 

I see it in the music which represents the progress of the 

18 * 




210 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

battle, and where, after being inspired by the trumpet-notes 
of preparation, the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing- 
room are seen to bend over the sentimental entertainment ; 
nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the 
death tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of the 
wounded men, as they fade away upon the ear and sink into 
lifeless silence. 

All, all goes to prove what strange and half-sighted crea- 
tures we are. Were it not so, war could never have been seen 
in any other aspect than that of unmingled hatefulness, and I 
can look to nothing but to the progress of Christian sentiment 
upon earth to arrest the strong current of the popular and 
prevailing partiality for war. Then only will an imperious 
sense of duty lay the check of severe principle on all the sub- 
ordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. 

Then will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the 
wakeful benevolence of the gospel, chasing away every spell, 
will be turned by the treachery of no delusion whatever from 
its simple but sublime enterprises for the good of the species. 
Then the reign of truth and quietness will be ushered into the 
world, and war — cruel, atrocious, unrelenting war — will be 
stripped of its many and its bewildering fascinations. 

Thomas Chalmers, 1780-1847. 



104.— TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 

High hopes that burned like stars sublime go down i' the heavens 

of freedom, 
And true hearts perish in the time we bitterliest need 'em, 
But never sit we down and say there's nothing left but sorrow; 
We walk the wilderness to-day — the promised land to-morrow. 

Our birds of song are silent now, there are no flowers blooming ; 
Yet life holds in the frozen bough, and freedom's spring is coming, 
And freedom's tide comes up alway, tho' we may stand in sorrow, 
And our good bark, aground to-day, shall float again to-morrow. 



DANGERS OF OUR PROSPERITY. 211 

Through all the long, long night of years the people's cry ascendeth, 

And earth is wet with blood and tears, but our meek sufferance 
endeth. 

The few shall not for ever sway — the many toil in sorrow ; 

The powers of hell are strong to-day, but Christ shall rise to- 
morrow. 

Tho' hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes with smiling futures 
glisten, 

For, lo ! our day bursts up the skies : lean out your souls and listen ! 

The world rolls freedom's radiant way, and ripens with her sorrow ; 

Keep heart! who bears the Cross to-day shall wear the Crown to- 
morrow ! 

O youth, flame-earnest, still aspire with energies immortal ! 
To many a heaven of desire our yearnings ope the portal ; 
And tho' age wearies by the way and hearts break in the furrow, 
We'll sow the golden grain to-day — the harvest reap to-morrow ! 

Build up heroic lives and all be like a sheathen sabre, 
Eeady to flash out at God's call, O chivalry of labor ! 
Triumph and toil are twins, and aye joy suns the clouds of sorrow, 
And 'tis the martyrdom to-day brings victory to-morrow. 

Gerald Massey. 



105.— DANGERS OF OUR PROSPERITY. 

The danger, my countrymen, is that we shall become 
intoxicated by our amazing physical triumphs. Because, 
within the memory of most of us, the lightning has been har- 
nessed to the newsman's car, and the steam-engine has not only 
brought the ends of the earth into proximity, but has also 
provided a working power which, requiring no nutriment and 
susceptible of no fatigue, almost releases living creatures from 
the necessity of toil, — because of these most marvelous discov- 
eries, we are in danger of believing that like wonders may be 
achieved in the social and moral world. 



212 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

But be it remembered that in all our discoveries no substi- 
tute has been found for conscience, and no machine to take the 
place of reason. The telegraph cannot legislate, nor the loco- 
motive educate. The mind is still the mind, and must obey its 
own higher laws. Our most pressing needs are such as no 
mechanism can supply. What we most lack is true, earnest, 
sincere, faithful, loyal, self-sacrificing men. Without these it 
is in vain that we extend our territory from ocean to ocean, and 
quarry gold as we do rocks. These physical accessions, coming 
so suddenly upon us, do but increase our peril. Adversity we 
might bear, and be the better for it, but how shall we bear 
this gush of seeming prosperity? Seeming, I say, because 
time alone can determine whether it is real. 

If, my countrymen, with all these excitements, we do not 
become a nation of reckless adventurers — gamblers perhaps 
would be the proper word — if we do not cut ourselves entirely 
loose from our ancient moorings, but still hold fast to our in- 
tegrity, our very continence will prove that there is still some 
sterling virtue left. For never was there so much reason for 
the prayer, " Deliver us from temptation." After all our con- 
quests, the most difficult yet remains — the victory over our- 
selves. We have now to answer, under untried difficulties, 
that gravest of questions, "What constitutes a state?" And 
the answer must be like that which was given long, long ago : 

" Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, 

Thick wall or moated gate, 
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned, 

Not bays and broad-armed ports, 
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; 

Not starred and spangled courts, 
Where low-browed Baseness wafts perfume to Pride ; 

No, men, high-minded men — 
With powers as far above dull brutes endued 

In forest, brake, or den, 
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; 
Men who their duties know, 

But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain." 

Timothy Walker. 



DESTRUCTION OF THE PHILISTINES. 



213 



106.— DESTRUCTION OF THE PHILISTINES. 

Mr. Thyer remarks of this piece: "One may without extravagance 
say that the poet seems to exert no less force of genius in describing 
than Samson does in executing." 

Occasions drew me early to the 

city, 
And as the gates I entered with 

sunrise, 
The morning trumpets festival 

proclaimed 
Through each high street ; little I 

had despatched, 
When all abroad was rumored 

that this day 
Samson should be brought forth, 

to show the people 
Proof of his mighty strength in mil 

feats and games ; 
I sorrowed at his captive state, but minded 
Not to be absent at that spectacle. 




The building was a spacious theatre, 

Half round, on two mam pillars vaulted high, 

With seats where all the lords, and each degree 

Of sort, might sit, in order to behold ; 

The other side was open, where the throng 

On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand ; 

I among these aloof obscurely stood. 



The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice 
Had filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, 
When to their sports they turned. Immediately 
Was Samson as a public servant brought, 
In their state livery clad ; before him pipes 
And timbrels ; on each side went armed guards, 
Both horse and foot ; before him and behind, 
Archers and slingers, cataphracts and spears. 



214 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

At sight of him the people with a shout 
Rifted the air, clamoring their god with praise, 
Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall. 
He, patient, but undaunted, where they led him, 
Came to the place ; and what was set before him, 
Which without help of eye might be essayed, 
To heave, pull, draw or break, he still performed, 
All with incredible, stupendous force, 
None daring to appear antagonist. 

At length, for intermission sake, they led him 
Between the pillars ; he his guide requested 
(For so from such as nearer stood we heard), 
As over-tired, to let him lean a while 
With both his arms on those two massy pillars 
That to the arched roof gave main support. 
He, unsuspicious, led him ; which when Samson 
Felt in his arms, with head a while inclined, 
And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed, 
Or some great matter in his mind revolved : 
At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud: 

" Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed 
I have performed, as reason was, obeying, 
Not without wonder or delight beheld ; 
Now of my own accord such other trial 
I mean to show you of my strength, yet greater, 
As with amaze shall strike all who behold." 

This uttered, straining all his nerves, he bowed. 
As with the force of winds and waters pent, 
When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars 
With horrible convulsion to and fro 
He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew 
The whole roof after them with burst of thunder 
Upon the heads of all who sat beneath — 
Lords, ladies, captains, counselors or priests, 



THE NOBLEST PUBLIC VIRTUE. 215 

Their choice nobility and flower, not only 
Of this, but each Philistian city round, 
Met from all parts to solemnize this feast ! 

Samson, with these immixed, inevitably 
Pulled down the same destruction on himself; 
The vulgar only 'scaped who stood without. 

John Milton, 1608-1674. 



107.— THE NOBLEST PUBLIC VIRTUE. 

There is a sort of courage to which — I frankly confess it 
— I do not lay a claim ; a boldness to which I dare not aspire ; 
a valor which I cannot covet. I cannot lay myself down in 
the way of the welfare and happiness of my country. That I 
cannot, I have not the courage to do. I cannot interpose the 
power with which I may be invested — a power conferred not 
for my personal benefit or aggrandizement, but for my coun- 
try's good — to check her onward march to greatness and glory. 
I have not courage enough — I am too cowardly for that ! 

I would not, I dare not, lie down and place my body across 
the path that leads my country to prosperity and happiness. 
This is a sort of courage widely different from that which a 
man may display in his private conduct and personal rela- 
tions. Personal or private courage is totally distinct from 
that higher and nobler courage which prompts the patriot to 
offer himself a voluntary sacrifice to his country's good. 

Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness 
sometimes impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. 
It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation of 
the want of courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, so unamiable 
and offensive in private life, are vices which partake of the 
character of crimes in the conduct of public affairs. The un- 
fortunate victim of these passions cannot see beyond the little 
petty, contemptible circle of his own personal interest. All 



216 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

his thoughts are withdrawn from his country and concentrated 
on his consistency, his firmness, himself. 

The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriotism 
which, soaring toward heaven, rises far above all mean, low or 
selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul-transporting thought 
of the good and glory of one's country, are never felt in his 
impenetrable bosom. That patriotism which, catching its in- 
spiration from on high, and leaving at an immeasurable dis- 
tance below all lesser, groveling, personal interests and feel- 
ings, animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, 
of devotion and of death itself, — that is public virtue, that is 
the noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues ! 

Henry Clay, 1777-1852. 



108.— THE MODERN PUFFING- SYSTEM. 

FROM AN EPISTLE TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. 

Unlike those feeble gales of praise 
Which critics blew in former days, 
Our modern puffs are of a kind 
That truly, really, " raise the wind ; " 
And since they've fairly set in blowing, 
We find them the best " trade-winds " going. 

What steam is on the deep — and more — 
Is the vast power of Puff on shore ; 
Which jumps to glory's future tenses 
Before the present even commences, 
And makes "immortal" and "divine" of us. 
Before the world has read one line of us. 

In old times, when the god of song 
Drove his own two-horse team along, 
Carrying inside a bard or two 
Booked for posterity " all through," 



THE MODERN PUFFING SYSTEM. 217 

Their luggage a few close-packed rhymes 
(Like yours, my friend, for after-times), 
So slow the pull to Fame's abode 
That folks oft slumbered on the road ; 
And Homer's self sometimes, they say, 
Took to his night-cap on the way. 

But now how different is the story 
With our new galloping sons of glory, 
Who, scorning all such slack and slow time, 
Dash to posterity in no time ! 
Raise but one general blast of puff 
To start your author — that's enough ! 

In vain the critics set to watch him 
Try at the starting-post to catch him : 
He's off — the puffers carry it hollow — 
The critics, if they please, may follow ; 
Ere they've laid down their first positions, 
He's fairly blown through six editions ! 

In vain doth Edinburgh* dispense 
Her blue-and-yellow pestilence 
(That plague so awful in my time 
To young and touchy sons of rhyme) ; 
The Quarterly, at three months' date, 
To catch the Unread One, comes too late ; 
And nonsense, littered in a hurry, 
Becomes " immortal," spite of Murray, f 

Thomas Moore, 1780-1852. 

* An allusion to the "Edinburgh Review," the Edinburgh edition of 
which bas blue covers, backed with yellow. In his younger days Moore 
was so much offended by a criticism which appeared in the "Review" 
on his poems, that he sent a challenge to Francis Jeffrey, the editor. A 
hostile meeting took place August 11, 1806, but the police interfered and 
nobody was hurt. Moore and Jeffrey lived to be good friends. 

f Murray, the publisher of the "London Quarterly Review." 



19 



218 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




THE BIRTHPLACE OF WASHINGTON. 

109.— -WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 

I rise, gentlemen, to propose to you the name of that great 
man in commemoration of whose birth, and in honor of whose 
character and services, we have here assembled. I am sure 
that I express a sentiment common to every one present when 
I say that there is somethiDg more than ordinarily solemn and 
affecting in this occasion. 

We are met to testify our regard for him whose name is in- 
timately blended with whatever belongs most essentially to the 
prosperity, the liberty, the free institutions and the renown of 
our country. That name was of power to rally a nation in the 
hour of thick-thronging public disasters and calamities; that 
name shone amid the storm of war, a beacon-light to cheer 
and guide the country's friends ; its flame, too, like a meteor, 
to repel her foes. That name in the days of peace was a load- 
stone, attracting to itself a whole people's confidence, a whole 
people's love and the whole world's respect ; that name, de- 
scending with all time, spread over the whole earth and uttered 
in all the languages belonging to the tribes and races of 



WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 219 

men, will for ever be pronounced with affectionate gratitude by 
every one in whose breast there shall arise an aspiration for 
human rights and human liberty. 

Gentlemen, we are at the point of a century from the birth 
of Washington ; and what a century it has been ! During its 
course the human mind has seemed to proceed with a sort of 
geometric velocity, accomplishing more than had been done in 
fives or tens of centuries preceding. "Washington stands at 
the commencement of a new era as well as at the head of the 
New World. A century from the birth of Washington has 
changed the world. The country of Washington has been 
the theatre on which a great part of that change has been 
wrought, and Washington himself a principal agent by which 
it has been accomplished. His age and his country are equal- 
ly full of wonders, and of both he is the chief. 

It is the spirit of human freedom, the new elevation of in- 
dividual man, in his moral, social and political character, 
leading the whole long train of other improvements, which 
has most remarkably distinguished the era. Society has 
assumed a new character ; it has raised itself from beneath gov- 
ernments to a participation in governments ; it has mixed 
moral and political objects with the daily pursuits of individ- 
ual men, and with a freedom and strength before altogether 
unknown it has applied to these objects the whole power of 
the human understanding. It has been the era, in short, when 
the social principle has triumphed over the feudal principle ; 
when society has maintained its rights against military 
power, and established on foundations never hereafter to be 
shaken its competency to govern itself. 

If the prediction of the poet, uttered a few years before 
Washington's birth, be true — if indeed it be designed by Pro- 
vidence that the proudest exhibition of human character and 
human affairs shall be made on this theatre of the Western 
world — if it be true that 

" The first four acts already past, 
A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; 
Time's noblest offspring is the last," 



220 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

— how could this imposing, swelling final scene be appropri- 
ately opened, how could its intense interest be adequately sus- 
tained, but by the introduction of just such a character as 
our Washington ? 

Daniel Webster, 1782-1852. 



110.— THE BOLLING STONE. 

Characters. — Mr. Carp, Charles Veer. 

Enter Mr. Carp and Charles Veer, in opposite directions. 
Charles has a rake and pitchfork, which he soon lays down. 

Carp. Why, nephew, what is the meaning of this? The last 
time I saw you, you were feeling a sick man's pulse, and trying 
to look wise. 

Veer. True, uncle, I prescribed for that man. 

Carp. Poor fellow ! Did he recover ? 

Veer. Did he recover ? He certainly did not. I had the 
honor of giving him the las.t dose he ever took. 

Carp. Then you gave up medicine and your patient to- 
gether, eh ? Well, you did right. Not one man in a hundred 
succeeds as a doctor. The profession is trying to the health, 
lacerating to the feelings, petrifying to the conscience. Besides, 
what with hydropaths, homoeopaths, gymnasts, quacks and 
healing mediums, the regular practitioner is crowded to the 
wall. 

Veer. So I thought, and accordingly entered my name in 
the law-office of Messrs. Wheedle & Grab. 

Carp. Law ? Worse still ! It gets a man into the habit of 
trying to make the worse appear the better reason. Profession 
crowded. Business demoralizing. Keep away from the law. 

Veer. I did most faithfully, till at last I took to trade. 

Carp. If there is anything uncertain, it is trade. Seventy- 
five merchants in a hundred break down before they have 
been in business ten years. Never be a merchant. You 
failed, I suppose? 



THE ROLLING STONE. 221 

Veer. Oh no ! I couldn't get a chance to fail. Nobody 
would give me any credit. So, after a dash at authorship and 
a week's trial at school-teaching, I fixed — yes, fixed — upon an 
occupation to which I mean to be faithful. 

Carp. As for authorship, it is too precarious for any but 
vagabonds ; and as for school-teaching, put me into a tread-mill 
rather. But what is this new occupation you- have taken up ? 

Veer. Ecce Signum ! Don't you see ? It is the one occu- 
pation for a rational man. I am a tiller of the soil. Yes, I 
have found a harbor at last. In-veni port'um. Behold my 
rake and my pitchfork. Blessed tools ! Hay-making ! Fra- 
grance, health and all rural charms are in the very sound. 
Hay-making ! 

Carp. Hay-making! Bah! I could have told you some- 
thing about farming. It has been proved from statistical tables 
that farmers — 

Veer. Upset the statistical tables — smash them — burn them 
— if they insinuate anything against farmers ! 

Carp. Be quiet. They prove, I say, that farmers suffer 
more from diseases of the brain than any other class. 

Veer. Statistics prove that, do they ? 

Carp. To be sure they do. 

Veer. Do you know what else statistics prove ? I will tell 
you. They prove that old gentlemen of leisure and of choleric 
temper, like yourself, generally go off in an apoplexy before 
they reach the age of sixty. 

Carp. Statistics are a humbug. You can prove anything 
by statistics. Here is a newspaper from California proving 
by statistics that the country has lost money by the discovery 
of gold. 

Veer [taking the newspaper']. Allow me. Ah ! What 
have we here? \_Reads.~] "Enormous deposits of silver!" 
" In a single day, two men took out fifty thousand dollars' 
worth of silver ! " [Paces the stage.] 

Carp. What's the matter, Charles? Are you bitten by 
anything ? 

Veer. Fifty thousand dollars in one day ! Think of that ! 
19 * 



222 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

{Kicks the rake.'] Uncle, fit me out for Utah, and you shall 
have fifty per cent, of my mining profits. 

Carp. Mining profits, indeed ! Chills and fevers ! Kattle- 
snakes and grizzly bears ! 

Veer. Uncle of mine, do you approve of a man's living at 
all ? What is a poor fellow to do ? Tell me that. Shall I 
stand still ? 

Carp. By no means. 

Veer. Shall I go on — keep moving ? 

Carp. No. Your pushing men always get a stumble. 

Veer. What in the name of common sense, then, shall I do ? 
I will tell you what I will do : I will stick to the farm. Who 
is more independent than a tiller of the soil ? See him go 
forth in the morning, " pride in his port, defiance in his eye," 
his pitchfork on his shoulder. His way is through green 
fields, by babbling brooks, in the shadow of primeval forests. 
Oh how happy, did he but know his happiness ! 

Carp. Bravo, nephew ! What a fortune you would make 
on the stage ! 

Veer. Eh ? The stage ? Did you say the stage ? Not a 
bad idea, that ! Do you really think I should succeed on the 
stage ? Come, now, there you are not so far in the wrong. 
Figure — well, though I say it, figure not bad ! Height — just 
the thing to a hair ! Garrick, Kean, and Booth were all under 
five feet four. Face — well, if I were to pronounce it a re- 
markably fine face, I should merely be stating a notorious fact 
in a very mild way. 

Carp. Befreshing modesty ! 

Veer. Voice — let me give you a touch from Hamlet. 

Carp. Spare me. I never wronged you. [Looks at his 
ivatch.~] 

Veer. Put up that watch and listen! "What a piece of 
work is a man ! How noble in reason ! How infinite in facul- 
ties ! In form and moving, how express and admirable ! In 
action — " [In gesticulating he nearly hits Carp.] 

Carp. Be careful. 

Veer. "In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, 



THE ROLLING STONE. 223 

how like a god ! The beauty of the world ! the paragon of 
animals ! " 

Carp. I take back my compliment. That will do. 

Veer. Perhaps the dagger scene in Macbeth, or the mad 
scene in Lear, or the defiance in Coriolanus, would better suit 
my style. " Is this a dagger that — " 

Carp. That will do, sir. My nose isn't a dagger. 

Veer. " I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness." 

Carp. That will do, my boy. 

Veer. Boy? 

"Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart 
Too great for what contains it. ' Boy ! ' O slave ! 
Cut me to pieces, Volsces ; men and lads, 
Stain all your edges on me. ' Boy ! ' False hound ! 
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there 
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I 
Fluttered your Volscians in Co-ri'o-li ! 
Alone I did it. 'Boy!'" 

Carp. That will do, I say. That will do. 

Veer. To be sure it will do ! Who could do it better ? The 
pit would rise at me. 

Carp. Yes, rise to hoot you from the boards. 

Veer. The ladies would wave their handkerchiefs. 

Carp. Yes, wave you off out of their sight. Ah ! you'll 
never make an actor, nephew ; and if you could, is not the 
actor's vocation the most hazardous, the most humiliating, the 
most — 

Veer. I have it ! I'll be a lecturer. 

Carp. That would be a blow indeed to your family. Spare 
them the disgrace. A lecturer is another name for a bore. 
Punch and Judy are worth the whole mob of gentlemen who 
lecture. 

Veer. Thou darkener of counsel ! Did you never hear the 
old proverb, " A rolling stone gathers no moss"? I will stay 
where I am. My grasp is on the handle of the plow, and I'll 
not look back. 

Carp. Hear him ! How long will this farming frolic last ? 



224 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Veer. Last ? As long as I can swing a scythe or handle a 
spade ! " Let not ambition mock my useful toil !" Come and 
see my improvements. 

Carp. When a farmer asks me to see his improvements, I 
always have an attack of rheumatism. I know he means to 
take me to his pig-stye. No, I thank you. Improvements, 
indeed ! The very word is enough. I hate improvements. 
Go your own way. Good-bye, Mr. Farmer. [Exit. 

Veer. There's a nice man for a rich uncle ! No matter. 
[Takes his rake and pitchfork.'] Here are my weapons. 
Steady is the word now. I'll wring from this coy, reluctant 
soil a living of some kind, and with it a treasure that silver 
cannot purchase — content. [Exit. Sargent. 



111. -THE DYING TRUMPETER. 

Upon the field of battle the dying trumpeter lay, 
And from his side the life-blood was streaming fast away. 
His deadly wound is burning, and yet he cannot die 
Till his company returning bring news of victory. 

Hark ! as he rises reeling upon the bloody ground — 
Hark ! o'er the field is pealing a well-known trumpet's sound. 
It gives him life and vigor ; he grasps his horse's mane, 
He mounts and lifts his trumpet to his dying lips again. 

And all his strength he gathers to hold it in his hand, 
Then pours in tones of thunder, " Victoria ! " o'er the land. 
" Victoria ! " sounds the trumpet ! " Victoria ! " all around ; 
" Victoria ! " like loud thunder it runs along the ground. 

And in that blast so thrilling the trumpeter's spirit fled ; 
He breathed his last breath in it, and from his horse fell dead. 
The company returning stood silent round their friend ; 
"That," said the old field-marshal — "that was a happy end!" 

Julius Mosen. 



A PRISONER'S MEDITATIONS. 



225 



112.— A PRISONER'S MEDITATIONS. 

To live at liberty is doubtless much better than living in a 
prison, but even here the reflection that God is present with 
us, that worldly joys are brief and fleeting and that true hap- 
piness is to be sought in the 
conscience, not in external 
objects, can give a real zest 
to life. In less than one 
month after my captivity I 

had made up my mind as to __j|| ISF®"^ 

the part I should adopt. 

Having been incapable of 
the mean action of purchas- 
ing impunity by procuring 
the destruction of others, I 
saw that the only prospect 
that lay before me was the 
scaffold, or long -protracted 
imprisonment. It was neces- 
sary that I should prepare myself. "I will live," thought I, 
" so long as I shall be permitted ; and when they take my life, 
I will do as the unfortunate have done before me: when the 
last moment arrives, I can die ! " 

At the beginning of my captivity I was fortunate enough 
to meet a friend. It was neither the governor nor any of his 
under-jailers, but a poor deaf-and-dumb boy five or six years 
old, the offspring of thieves who had paid the penalty of the 
law. The little fellow used to come under my window, smile 
and bow to me. I threw him a piece of bread ; he took it and 
gave a leap of joy ; then ran to his companions, divided it, 
and returned to eat his own share under my window. This 
boy seemed delighted whenever I deigned to notice him ; and 
one day, on being permitted to enter my prison, he uttered a 
cry of joy and ran to embrace my knees. I took him up in 
my arms, and he threw his little hands about my neck and 
lavished on me the tenderest caresses. 




SILVIO PELLICO. 



226 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

How much affection in his smile and manner ! how eagerly 
I longed to have him to educate, to raise him from his abject 
condition, and snatch him, perhaps, from ruin ! I never even 
learned his name ; he himself did not know that he had one. 
He seemed always happy — as light-hearted as if he had been 
the child of a grandee. Strange happiness, thought I, in a re- 
ceptacle of so much pain and sorrow ! 

From this little teacher I learned, at least, that the mind 
need not depend on situation, but may be rendered independent 
of external things. Govern the imagination, and all will be 
well with us, wherever we may be placed. A day is soon over ; 
and if at night we can retire to rest without actual pain and 
hunger, it matters little whether it be within the walls of a 
prison or of a palace. The mind is its own place. 

But how govern the imagination ? I began to try, and 
sometimes thought I had succeeded to a miracle, but at other 
times the enchantress triumphed, and I was repeatedly as- 
tonished to find tears starting into my eyes. " Still, slavery, 
still thou art a bitter draught ! " Silvio Pellico.* 



113.— THE SECOND WAR WITH ENGLAND, 1812. 
If we are not fully prepared for war, let the sublime fact 
be soon exhibited that a free and valiant nation, with our 
numbers and a just cause, is always a powerful nation, is 
always ready to defend its essential rights. In the Congress 
of 1774, among other arguments used to prevent a war and 
discourage separation from Great Britain, the danger of hav- 
ing our towns battered down and burnt was zealously urged. 
The venerable Christopher Gadsden, of South Carolina, rose 
and replied to it in these memorable words : " Our seaport 
towns, Mr. President, are composed of brick and wood. If 
they are destroyed, we have clay and timber enough to re- 
build them. But if the liberties of our country are destroyed, 
where shall we find the materials to replace them f " 

* Author of "My Prisons," born near Turin, in Piedmont, 1780, died 
1854. He was imprisoned by the Austrian authorities on account of sup- 
posed hostility to the government. 



THE SECOND WAR WITH ENGLAND. 227 

During the siege of Boston, General Washington consulted 
Congress upon the propriety of bombarding the town. Mr. 
Hancock was then President of Congress. After General 
Washington's letter was read, a solemn silence ensued. This 
was broken by a member making a motion that the House 
should resolve itself into a committee of the whole, in order 
that Mr. Hancock might give his opinion upon the important 
subject, as he was so deeply interested, from having all his 
estate in Boston. After he left the chair, he addressed the 
chairman of the committee of the whole in the following 
words : " It is true, sir, nearly all the property I have in the 
world is in houses and other real estate in the town of Boston ; 
but if the expulsion of the British army — if the liberties of 
our country — require their being burnt to ashes, issue the order 
for that purpose immediately." 

What inspiring lessons of duty do examples like these in- 
culcate ! War, fellow-citizens, is a great evil, but not the 
greatest of evils. Submission to injustice is worse. Loss of 
honor is worse. A peace purchased by mean and inglorious 
sacrifices is worse. That sordid or that self-indulgent spirit 
which would lead a man to prize the satisfaction of avarice 
or of worldly ease above country, above manliness, above 
freedom, is worse, far worse. 

I am no apologist of war. I hate and deplore it. It should 
be the last resort of nations. It should be shunned on every 
principle, Christian and humane. It brings tremendous evils 
in its train. It foments some of the vilest passions of our na- 
ture. But an ignoble peace may be even more demoralizing 
than a sanguinary war. It may corrupt all the springs of a 
people's energy and magnanimity. It may make them servile, 
sensual, selfish. It may be such an incubus on a nation's 
character that every true patriot must feel crushed and de- 
graded under its weight, till he could almost exclaim with 
disgraced Cassio, "Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have 
lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. 
My reputation, Iago, my reputation ! " 

T. C. Bkown. 



228 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

114.— THE BATTLE OP FONTENOY, May 11, 1745. 

By our camp-fires rose a murmur at the dawning of the day, 
And the tread of many footsteps spoke the advent of the fray ; 
And as we took our places, few and pithy were our words, 
While some were tightening horse-girths and some were girding 
swords. 

The trumpet blast has sounded our footmen to array; 
The willing steed has bounded, impatient for the fray ; 
The green flag is unfolded, while rings the cry of joy, 
" Heaven speed dear Ireland's banner to-day at Fontenoy ! " 

We looked upon that banner, and the memory arose 

Of our homes and perished kindred where the Lee or Shannon 

flows; 
We looked upon that banner, and we swore to God on high 
To smite to-day the Saxon's might, to conquer or to die I 

Loud swells the charging trumpet — 'tis a voice from our own land ; 
God of battles, God of vengeance, guide to-day the patriot's brand ! 
There are stains to wash away, there are memories to destroy 
In the best blood of the Briton to-day at Fontenoy ! 

Plunge deep the fiery rowels in a thousand reeking flanks ; 
Down, chivalry of Ireland, down on the British ranks ! 
Now shall their serried columns beneath our sabres reel ; 
Thro' their ranks, then, with the war-horse I thro' their bosoms with 
the steel ! 

With one shout for good King Louis and the fair land of the vine, 
Like the wrathful Alpine tempest we swept upon their line : 
Then rang along the battle-field triumphant our hurrah, 
And we smote them down, still cheering "Erin slanthagal go 
bragh/" 

As prized as is the blessing from an aged father's lip, 

As welcome as the haven to the tempest-driven ship, 

As dear as to the lover the smile of gentle maid, 

Is this day of long-sought vengeance to the swords of the brigade. 

See their shattered forces flying, a broken, routed line — 
See, England, what brave laurels for your brow to-day we twine. 
Oh, thrice blessed the hour that witnessed the Briton turn to flee 
From the chivalry of Erin and France's Jleur de lis! 



THE CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA. 229 

As we lay beside our camp-fires when the sun had passed away, 
And thought upon our brethren who had perished in the fray, 
We prayed to God to grant us (and then we'd die with joy) 
One day upon our own dear land like this of Fontenoy ! 

Bartholomew Dowling. 



115.— ETHAN ALLEN'S ACCOUNT OP THE CAP- 
TURE OF TICONDEROGA.. 

While I was waiting an oppor- 
tunity to signalize myself, direc- 
tions were privately sent to me 
from Connecticut to raise the 
Green Mountain boys, and if pos- 
sible with them to surprise and 
take the fortress of Ticonderoga. 
This enterprise I cheerfully un- 
dertook. I made a forced march 
from Bennington, and arrived at 
the lake opposite to Ticonderoga 1 
on the evening of the ninth day of 
May, 1775, with two hundred and kthan allen. 

thirty valiant Green Mountain boys. It was with the utmost 
difficulty I procured boats to cross the lake. However, I landed 
eighty-three men near the garrison, and sent the boats back 
for the rear-guard, commanded by Colonel Seth Warner, but 
the day began to dawn, and I found myself under the neces- 
sity of attacking the fort before the rear could cross the lake ; 
and as this was viewed as a hazardous business, I harangued 
the officers and soldiers in the manner following : 

" Friends and fellow-soldiers : You have for a number of years 
past been a scourge and terror to arbitrary power. Your valor 
has been famed abroad, and it has been acknowledged at home, as 
appears by the advice and orders to me from the General Assembly 
of Connecticut to surprise and take this garrison. I now propose 
to advance before you, and in person to conduct you through the 
wicket-gate ; for we must this morning either quit our pretensions 
to valor or possess ourselves of this fortress in a few minutes. And 

20 




230 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



inasmuch as it is a desperate attempt, which none but the bravest 
of men dare undertake, I do not urge it on any contrary to his 
will. You that will undertake it voluntarily, poise your firelocks." 

The men being at this time drawn up in three ranks, each 
poised his firelock. I ordered them to face to the right, and 
at the head of the centre file marched them immediately to 
the wicket-gate aforesaid, where I found a sentry posted who 
instantly snapped his fusee at me. I ran immediately toward 
him, and he retreated through the covered way into the parade 
within the garrison, gave a halloo and ran under a bomb- 
proof. My party, who followed me into the fort, I formed on 
the parade in such a manner as to face the two barracks, which 
faced each other. 

The garrison being asleep, except the sentries, we gave three 
huzzas, which greatly surprised them. One of the sentries 
made a pass at one of my officers with a charged bayonet, and 
slightly wounded him. My first thought was to kill the sen- 
try with my sword, but in an instant I altered the design and 
fury of the blow to a slight cut on the side of the head, upon 
which he dropped his gun and asked quarter, which I readily 
granted him, and demanded of him the place where the com- 
manding officer slept. He showed me a pair of stairs in the 
front of a barrack, on the west part of the garrison, which led 
up to a second story in said barrack, to which I immediately 
repaired and ordered the commander, Captain de la Place, to 
come forth instantly or I would sacrifice the whole garrison, 
at which the captain came immediately to the door with his 
breeches in his hand, when I ordered him to deliver me the 
fort instantly. He asked me by what authority I demanded 
it. I answered him, " In the name of the Great Jehovah and 
the Continental Congress" 

The authority of the Congress being very little known at 
that time, he began to speak again. But I interrupted him, 
and with my drawn sword over his head once more demanded 
an immediate surrender of the garrison, with which he then 
complied. 

Ethan Allen, 1737-1789. 



HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS. 231 

116.— HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS. 

Oxce more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, 

Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 

As modest stillness and humility ; 

But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tiger ! 

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage ; 

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 

Let it pry through the portage of the head 

Like the brass cannon ; 

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 

To his full height! On, on, you noblest English, 

Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war proof ! — 

Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, 

Have in these parts from morn till even fought, 

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. 

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 

Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 

Follow your spirit ; and, upon this charge, 

Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George ! 

Shakspeare. 



117.— MOSES AT THE FAIR. 
Jenkinson, having thrown aside his disguise as a quack doctor, enters 
with a box under his arm, encounters Moses and sets down his box. 

Jenkinson. A wonderful man ! A wonderful man ! 

Moses. Ah, a patient of that impudent quack doctor. 

Jen. Quack doctor, sir ? Would there were more such ! 
One draught of his aqua soliginus has cured me of a sweating 
sickness that was on me now these six years, and carried a 
large imposthume off my throat that scarce let me eat, drink 
or sleep except in an upright posture, and now it has gone as 



232 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

clean, saving your presence, as [picks his pocket] that, sir. 
Oh, a wonderful man ! I came here at full length in a cart, 
but I shall ride back as upright as a gate-post if I can but 
come by a horse. 

Moses [aside], A customer for the colt ; he seems a simple 
fellow. I have a horse to sell, sir. 

Jen. Oh ! I warrant me you are one of those cozening horse- 
jockeys that take in poor honest folk. I know no more of 
horses than you do of Greek. 

Moses. Nay. [Aside.] But I must appear simple. I assure 
you, sir, that you need not fear being cozened by me. I have 
a good stout colt for sale that has been worked in the plow 
these two years ; you can but step aside and look at him. 

Jen. Well, as for that, I don't care if I do ; but, bless me ! I 
was forgetting my wares. [Takes up his box. 

Moses. What have you there ? 

Jen. [mysteriously]. Ah ! that's a secret. They're my wares. 
There's a good twelve pounds' worth under the lid of that box. 
But you'll not talk about it, or I might be robbed ; the fair's 
full of rogues. Perhaps you're one of 'em ; you look mighty 
sharp ! 

Moses. Nay, my good man, I am as honest as thyself. [Aside.] 
Though perhaps not such a simpleton ! 

Jen. Well, I don't care if I do look at thy horse. [Aside.] 
And you may say good-bye to him. But you're sure he's quiet 
to ride and drive ? 

Moses. I've driven him myself, and I am not one that dri- 
veth furiously, and you may believe he's quiet to ride when I 
tell you he's carried my mother, an old lady, and never thrown 
her. [Aside.] It's true she tumbled off once, but that was her 
fault, and not the colt's. 

Jen. Then I don't care if I say a bargain. How much is it 
to be ? I don't like paying more than ten guineas. 

Moses [aside]. He's not worth half the money ! You shall 
name your own price. [Aside.] And then nobody can say I 
cheated him. 



MOSES AT THE FAIR. 233 

Jen. What say you to nine guineas, and the odd half guinea 
for saddle and bridle ? 

Hoses. Nay, I would not drive a hard bargain ; I'm con- 
tent. 

Jen. Stop a bit, and I'll show the money. [Pretends to search 
his pockets.'] Eh ? Oh, nay, 'tis t'other pocket ; no ! Oh, I'm 
a ruined man ! I be robbed — thieves ! I be robbed ! 

Moses. Robbed? This comes of carrying money. " Canta- 
bit vacuus coram latro'ne viator," as Juvenal says. But I will 
lend thee enough to take thee home again. [Going to put his 
hand in his pocket. 

Jen. [prevents him]. Nay, good young man, I have friends 
enow in this place who will do that for me. It is the loss of the 
horse that vexes me. Hold ! perhaps, though I can no longer 
buy, you may be willing to make a barter ? 

Hoses. Why, the practice of barter was much used among 
the ancients ; and, indeed, the Lacedemonians had no coined 
money until after the time of Lycurgus, as you are aware. 

Jen. No, I can't say I know the family. But w T ill you ex- 
change your horse against my wares ? There's a good twelve 
pounds' worth of 'em. 

Moses. What are they? Depro'me — that is, bring them 
forth. 

Jen. [opens his box]. A gross of green spectacles, fine pebbles 
and silver rims. [Taking a pair out of case. 

Moses. A gross of green spectacles. [ Taking a pair. 

Jen. A dozen dozen. 

Moses. Let's see. [Aside, calculates.] Twelve times twelve 
is — and twenty one's into — go — yes, a capital bargain ! I 
accept ; you take the colt and I'll take the spectacles. [ Offer- 
ing to take the box. 

Jen. Nay, nay ! I'll give you the box when you've given 
me the colt ; so come ! 

Moses. A gross of green spectacles ! Huzza ! [Aside.] I'll 
retail them for twice the money. " Nocte pluit tota redeunt 
spectacula ma'ne " — " There come back spectacles many." 
20* 



234 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



Ha, ha ! the silly fellow ! Well, it's not my fault ; he will 
cheat himself — ha, ha ! Oh, Moses is a simpleton, is he ? 
Moses can't make a bargain, can't he ? [Exit. 

Jen. Of all the green spectacles I ever sold, I must say 
you're the greenest. J. S. Coyne. 




118.— MARY QUEEN OF SOOTS. 

It was a laboring bark that slowly held its way, 

And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay ; 

And on the deck a lady sat who looked with tearful gaze 

Upon the fast-receding hills within the distant haze. 

The past was fair, like those dear hills so far behind her bark ; 

The future, like the gathering night, was ominous and dark. 

One gaze again, one long, last gaze : " Adieu, dear France, to thee ! " 

The breeze comes forth — she's there alone upon the wide, wide sea 

The scene was changed. It was an eve of raw and surly mood, 
And in a turret-chamber high of ancient Holyrood 
Sat Mary, listening to the rain and sighing with the winds, 
That seemed to suit the stormy state of men's uncertain minds. 
The touch of care had blanched her cheeks, her smile was sadder now, 
The Aveight of royalty had lain too heavy on her brow ; 



MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 235 

And traitors to her councils came, and rebels to the field ; 
The Stuart sceptre well she swayed, but the siuord she could not wield. 
She thought of all her blighted hopes, the dreams of youth's brief day, 
And summoned Bizzio with his lute, and bade the minstrel play 
The songs she loved in early years, the songs of gay Navarre, 
The songs perchance that erst were sung by gallant Chatelar : 
They half beguiled her of her cares, they soothed her into smiles, 
They won her thoughts from bigot zeal and fierce domestic broils. 

But hark, the tramp of armed men ! the Douglas' battle-cry ! 
They come, they come ! and, lo ! the scowl of Ruthven's hollow eye ! 
Around an unarmed man they crowd — Euthven in mail complete, 
George Douglas, Ker of Fawdonside, and Eizzio at their feet ! 
With rapiers drawn and pistols bent they seized their wretched prey, 
Wrenched Mary's garments from his grasp, and stabbed him where 

he lay. 
I saw George Douglas raise his arm, I saw his dagger gleam ; 
Then sounded Rizzio's dying cry and Mary's piteous scream. 
I saw her writhe in Darnley's arms as in a serpent's fold : 
The coward ! he was pale as death, but would not loose his hold. 
And then the torches waved and shook, and louder grew the din, 
And up the stairs and thro' the doors the rest came trooping in. 
But Mary Stuart brushed aside the burning tears that fell : 
" Now for my father's arm !" she gasped ; " my woman's heart, fare- 
well!" 

The scene was changed. It was a lake Avith one small lonely isle, 

And there, within the prison walls of its baronial pile, 

Stern men stood menacing their queen till she should stoop to sign 

The traitorous scroll that snatched the crown from her ancestral line. 

" My lords, my lords," the captive said, " were I but once more free, 

With ten good knights on yonder shore to aid my cause and me, 

That parchment would I rend and give to any wind that blows, 

And reign a queen, a Stuart yet, in spite of all my foes ! " 

A red spot burned upon her cheek — streamed her rich tresses down, 

She wrote the words ; she stood erect — a queen without a crown ! 

The scene was changed. A royal host a royal banner bore, 

And the faithful of the land stood round their smiling queen once 

more ; 
She checked her steed upon a hill, she saw them marching by, 
She heard their shouts, she read success in every flashing eye. 



236 



OXFORD >S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



The tumult of the strife begins ; it roars, it dies away, 
And Mary's troops and banners now — oh, where and what are they? 
Scattered, struck down or flying far, defenseless and undone — 
Ah, me ! to see what she has lost, to think what guilt has won ! 
Away, away ! her gallant steed must act no laggard's part ; 
Yet vain his speed to bear her from the anguish at her heart. 

Last scene of all. Beside the block a sullen headsman stood, 
Gleamed in his hand the murderous axe that soon must drip with 

blood. 
With slow and stately step there came a lady thro' the hall, 
And breathless silence chained the lips and touched the hearts of all : 
Rich were the sable robes she wore ; her white veil round her fell, 
And from her neck there hung a cross— the cross she loved so well ! 
I knew that queenly form again, though blighted was its bloom — 
Though grief and care had decked it out, an offering for the tomb. 
I knew the eye, tho' faint its light, that once so brightly shone ; 
I knew the voice, still musical, that thrilled with every tone ; 
I knew the ringlets, almost gray, once threads of living gold ; 
I knew that bounding step of grace, that symmetry of mold. 
And memory sought her far away in that calm convent aisle, 
Could hear her chant her vesper-hymn, could mark her holy smile; 
Could see her as in youth she looked upon her bridal morn, 
A new star in the firmament to light and glory born ! 
Alas, the change ! her daring foot had touched a triple throne — 
Now see her on the scaffold stand, beside the block, alone ! 
A little dog that licks her hand the last of all the crowd 
Who sunned themselves beneath her glance or round her footsteps 

bowed ! 
Her neck is bare — the axe descends — the soul has passed away ! 
The bright, the beautiful, is now a bleeding piece of clay. 




LOCHLEVEN CASTLE, WHERE MARY WAS IMPRISONED. 



IMPRISONMENT OF JBONNIVARD. 



237 



119. -IMPRISONMENT OF BONNIVARD. 

Failing iu his enterprise for the liberation of Geneva. 
Bonnivard was transported to the castle of Chillon, where a 
dreadful captivity awaited him. Bound by the middle of his 
body to a chain the 
other end of which was 
attached to an iron 
ring in a pillar, he re- 
mained in this condition 
six years, free to move 
the length only of his 
chain, and able to re- 
cline only where it al- 
lowed him to extend 
himself. 

The pavement was 
hollowed by his meas- 
ured tread; but the 
thought that his cap- 
tivity would perhaps 
avail nothing for the chillon. 

enfranchisement of his country, and that Geneva and he were 
doomed to perpetual fetters, must have been more wearing to 
his mind than his steps to the stone. 

"Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, 

And thy sad floor an altar ; for 'twas trod 
Until his very steps have left a trace, 

Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, 
By Bonnivard ! May none those marks efface ! 
For they appeal from tyranny to God." 

How happened it in this long night, which no day broke in 
upon and where the silence was disturbed by no sound save that 
of the waves of the lake dashing against the walls of his dun- 
geon — how happened it that the mind did not overpower the 
body, or the body the mind ? Why was it that the jailer, on 
going his rounds some morning, did not find his prisoner either 




238 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

dead or mad? One besetting, one eternal idea — was it not 
enough to break the heart or paralyze the brain ? 

And during this time — during these six years, during this 
eternity — not a cry, not a murmur, as his jailers testified, 
escaped from the prisoner ; although, without doubt, when the 
tempest was unloosed — when the gale tore up the waves, when 
the rain and the blast lashed the walls — he too had his utter- 
ance, for then his voice might be lost in the great voice of 
nature, for then God only could distinguish his cries and sobs ; 
and the next day his jailers, who had not feasted on his de- 
spair, would find him calm and resigned, the tempest in his 
heart subdued and hushed, like that in the sky. 

Ah ! without that — without that — would he not have dashed 
his brains out against the pillar to which he was chained? 
Could he have awaited that day when his countrymen simul- 
taneously burst into his prison to rescue and to honor him ? 
A hundred voices then exclaimed, " Bonnivard, thou art free !" 
" And Geneva ?" " Is also free !" 

Alexandre Dumas. 



120.— DEMOCRACY ADVERSE TO SOCIALISM. 

Democracy, socialism? Why profess to associate what, in 
the nature of things, can never be united ? Can it be, gen- 
tlemen, that this whole grand movement of the French Revolu- 
tion is destined to terminate in that form of society which 
the socialists have with so much fervor depicted ? — a society 
marked out with compass and rule, in which the state is to 
charge itself with everything, and the individual is to be 
nothing; in which society is to absorb all force, all life, and 
in which the only end assigned to man is his personal comfort ? 
What ! was it for such a society of beavers and of bees — a 
society rather of skillful animals than of men free and civil- 
ized — was it for- such that the French Revolution was accom- 
plished ? Not so ! It was for a greater, a more sacred end — 
one more worthy of humanity. 

But socialism professes to be the legitimate development of 



DEMOCRACY ADVERSE TO SOCIALISM. 239 

democracy. I shall not search, as many have done, into the 
true etymology of this word democracy. I shall not, as gentle- 
men did yesterday, traverse the garden of Greek roots to find 
the derivation of this word. I shall point you to democracy 
where I have seen it, living, active, triumphant ; in the only 
country in the world where it truly exists, where it has been 
able to establish and maintain even to the present time some- 
thing grand and durable to claim our admiration — in the New 
World, in America. 

There shall you see a people among whom all conditions of 
men are more on an equality even than among us ; where the 
social state, the manners, the laws, everything, is democratic ; 
where all emanates from the people, and returns to the people ; 
and where, at the same time, every individual enjoys a greater 
amount of liberty, a more entire independence, than in any 
other part of the world, at any period of time — a country, I 
repeat it, essentially democratic, the only democracy in the 
wide world at this day, and the only republic truly dem- 
ocratic which we know of in history. And in this repub- 
lic you will look in vain for socialism. Not only have the 
theories of the socialists gained no possession there of the pub- 
lic mind, but they have played so trifling a part in the discus- 
sions and affairs of that great nation that they have not even 
reached the dignity of being feared. 

America is at this day that country of the whole world 
where the sovereignty of democracy is most practical and 
complete, and it is at the same time that where the doctrines 
of the socialists, which you pretend to find so much in accord- 
ance with democracy, are the least in vogue — the country of 
the whole universe where the men sustaining those doctrines 
would have the least chance of making an impression. For 
myself, personally, I do not see, I confess, any objection to the 
emigration of these proselyting gentlemen to America, but I 
warn them that they will not find there any field for their 
labors. 

No, gentlemen, democracy and socialism are the antip'o-des 
of each other. While democracy extends the sphere of indi- 



240 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



vidual independence, socialism contracts it. Democracy de- 
velops a man's whole manhood, socialism makes him an agent, 
an instrument, a cipher. Democracy and socialism assimilate 
on one point only — the equality which they introduce; but 
mark the difference : democracy seeks equality in liberty, while 
socialism seeks it in servitude and constraint. 

Alexis de Tocqueville. 



121.— THE PLATFORM OF THE CONSTITUTION, 1838. 

A principal object in his late political movements, the 
gentleman himself tells us, was to unite the entire South. 
And against whom or against what does he wish to unite the 

entire South? Is not this the 
very essence of local feeling and 
local regard ? Is it not the ac- 
knowledgment of a wish and 
object to create political strength 
by uniting political opinions geo- 
graphically ? While the gentle- 
man wishes to unite the entire 
South, I pray to know, sir, if he 
expects me to turn toward the 
polar star, and acting on the 
same principle, to utter a cry of 
Kally! to the whole North? 
Heaven forbid! To the day of my death neither he nor 
others shall hear such a cry from me. 

Finally, the honorable member declares that he shall now 
march off under the banner of State rights. March off from 
whom? March off from what? We have been contending 
for great principles. We have been struggling to maintain 
the liberty and to restore the prosperity of the country ; we 
have made these struggles here in the national councils with 
the old flag — the true American flag, the eagle and the stars 
and stripes — waving over the chamber in which we sit. He 




DANIEL, WEBSTER. 



THE PLATFORM OF THE CONSTITUTION. 241 

now tells us, however, that he marches off under the State 
rights banner ! 

Let him go. I remain. I am where I ever have been and 
ever mean to be. Here, standing on the platform of the 
general constitution — a platform broad enough and firm 
enough to uphold every interest of the whole country — I shall 
still be found. Intrusted with some part in the administra- 
tion of that constitution, I intend to act in its spirit and in the 
spirit of those who framed it. Yes, sir. I would act as if our 
fathers who formed it for us and who bequeathed it to us were 
looking on me— as if I could see their venerable forms bend- 
ing down to behold us from the abodes above ! I would act, 
too, as if the eye of posterity was gazing on me. 

Standing thus as in the full gaze of our ancestors and our 
posterity, having received this inheritance from the former to 
be transmitted to the latter, and feeling that if I am born for 
any good in my day and generation it is for the good of the 
country, no local policy, no local feeling, no temporary impulse, 
shall induce me to yield my foothold on the constitution and the 
Union. I move off under no banner not known to the Avhole 
American people and to their constitution and laws. No, sir ! 
these walls, these columns, " fly from their firm base as soon 
as I." 

I came into public life, sir, in the service of the United 
States. On that broad altar my earliest and all my public 
vows have been made. I propose to serve no other master. 
So far as depends on any agency of mine, they shall continue 
united States — united in interest and affection, united in every- 
thing in regard to which the constitution has decreed their 
union, united in war for the common defense, the common 
renown and the common glory, and united, compacted, knit 
firmly together in peace for the common prosperity and hap- 
piness of ourselves and our children ! 

Daniel Webster, 1782-1852. 



21 



242 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



122.-KENELM CHILLINGLY. 

Kenelm. What is there in my conduct, sir, that occasions 
you displeasure? 

Sir Peter. Not displeasure, Kenelm, but anxiety. You see, 
my dear son, that it is my wish you should distinguish yourself 
in the world. Oratory is the talent most appreciated in a free 
country, and why should you not be an orator ? Demosthenes 
says that delivery, delivery, delivery, is the art of oratory ; and 
your delivery is excellent, graceful, self-possessed, classical. 

Kenelm. Pardon me, my dear father, Demosthenes does not 
say delivery, nor action, as the word is commonly rendered ; 
he says "acting or stage-playing" — hupokrisis, the art by 
which a man delivers a speech in a feigned character, whence 
we get the word hypocrisy. Hypocrisy, hypocrisy, hypocrisy, 
is, according to Demosthenes, the triple art of the orator. Do 
you wish me to become triply a hypocrite ? 

Sir Peter. Kenelm, I am ashamed of you. You know as 
well as I do that it is only by metaphor that you can twist the 
word ascribed to the great Athenian into the sense of hypocrisy. 
But assuming it, as you say, to mean not delivery, but acting, I 
understand why your debut as orator was not successful. Your 
delivery was excellent, your acting defective. An orator 
should please, conciliate, persuade, prepossess. You did the 
reverse of all this ; and though you produced a great effect, the 
effect was so decidedly to your disadvantage that it would have 
lost you an election on any hustings in England. 

Kenelm. Am I to understand, my dear father, that you. 
would commend to your son the adoption of deliberate false- 
hood for the gain of a selfish advantage ? 

Sir Peter. Deliberate falsehood? You impertinent puppy ! 

Kenelm. Puppy! puppy! Father of mine, does not a well- 
bred puppy always take after its parents? 

Sir Peter. Well, well, you dog, never lose your temper. 
Look you, Kenelm, these quips and humors of yours are 
amusing enough to an eccentric man like myself, but they will 
not do for the world. And how, at your age, and with the 



KENELM CHILLINGLY. 243 

advantages you have had, you could have made so silly a 
speech as you did yesterday, I do not understand. 

Kenelm. My dear father, the ideas I expressed are the new 
ideas most in vogue. 

Sir Peter. Boy, boy, such ideas would turn the world topsy- 
turvy. 

Kenelm. New ideas always do tend to turn old ideas topsy- 
turvy. And the world, after all, is only an idea which is 
turned topsy-turvy with every successive century. 

Sir Peter. You make me sick of the word ideas. Leave off 
your metaphysics, and study real life. 

Kenelm. It is real life which I have been studying. It is 
sham life which you wish me to study. To oblige you, I am 
willing to commence it. I dare say it is very pleasant. Peal 
life is not ; on the contrary, it is dull. 

Sir Peter. Have you no young friends among your fellow- 
collegians ? 

Kenelm. Friends! certainly not, sir; but I believe I have 
some enemies, .who answer the same purpose as friends, only 
they don't embarrass one so much — are not so mischievous. 

Sir Peter. Do you mean to say that you lived alone at Cam- 
bridge? 

Kenelm. No ; I lived a good deal with Aristoph'anes, and a 
little with Conic Sections and Hydrostatics. 

Sir Peter. Books ? Dry company ! 

Kenelm. More innocent, at least, than moist company. Did 
you ever get drunk, sir? 

Sir Peter. Drunk? 

Kenelm, I tried to do so once with the young companious 
whom you would commend to me as friends. I don't think I 
succeeded, but I woke with a headache. Keal life at college 
abounds with headache. 

Sir Peter. Kenelm, my boy, one thing is clear — you must 
travel. 

Kenelm. As you please, sir. Marcus Antoninus says that 
it is all one to a stone whether it is thrown upward or down- 
ward. When shall I start? 



244 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Sir Peter. Very soon. Among your other studies, may I 
inquire if you have included that which no man has ever yet 
thoroughly mastered — the study of woman? 

Kenelm. Every one who receives a classical education is 
introduced into female society. We have to encounter Pyrrha, 
Lydia, Corinna, and many more, all of the same sort. 

Sir Peter. Then it is only females who lived two thousand 
or three thousand years ago, or more probably never lived at 
all, whose intimacy you have cultivated? Have you never 
admired any real women? 

Kenelm. Real women! I never met one. Never met a 
woman who was not a sham — a sham from the moment she is 
told to be pretty-behaved, conceal her sentiments and look fibs 
when she does not speak them. But if I am to learn sham 
life, I suppose I must put up with sham women. 

Sir Peter. Have you been crossed in love, that you speak so 
bitterly of the sex? 

Kenelm. I don't speak bitterly of the sex. Examine any 
woman on her oath, and she'll own she's a sham, always has 
been, and always will be, and is proud of it. 

Sir Peter. I am glad your mother is not by to hear you. 
You will think differently one of these days. Meanwhile, to 
turn to the other sex, is there no young man of your own rank 
with whom you would like to travel? 

Kenelm. Certainly not. I hate quarreling. 

Sir Peter. As you please. But you cannot go quite alone ; 
I will find you a good traveling servant. Your allowance 
will be whatever you like to fix it at; you have never been 
extravagant, and, boy, I love you. Amuse yourself, enjoy 
yourself, and come back cured of your oddities, but preserving 
your honor. 

Kenelm. If ever I am tempted to do a base thing, may I 
remember whose son I am! I shall then be safe. 

Dramatized from Lord Lytton (Bulwer). 



BATTLE HYMN, AND FAREWELL TO LIFE. 245 




123.— BATTLE HYMN, AND FAREWELL TO LIFE. 
Theodore Korner, the martial poet of Germany, born in the year 1791 
fell in battle August 25, 1813, when scarcely twenty-two years old. 

Father of earth and heaven, I call thy name ! 

Round me the smoke aud shout of battle roll ; 
My eyes are dazzled with the rustliDg flame — 

Father, sustain an untried soldier's soul. 

Or life, or death, whatever be the goal 
That crowns or closes round the struggling hour, — 

Thou knowest if ever from my spirit stole 
One deeper prayer, 'twas that no cloud might lower 
On my young fame ! Oh hear, God of eternal power ! 

21 » 



246 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



Now for the fight ! Now for the cannon-peal ! 

Forward, through blood and toil and cloud and fire ! 
Glorious the shout, the shock, the clash of steel, 

The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire ! 

They shake ! like broken waves their squares retire ! 
On them, hussars ! Now give them rein and heel ; 

Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire : 
Earth cries for blood ! In thunder on them wheel ! 
This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph-seal ! 

My deep wound burns ; my pale lips quake in death ; 

I feel my fainting heart resign its strife ; 

And reaching now the limit of my life, 
Lord, to thy will I yield my parting breath ! 
Yet many a dream hath charmed my youthful eye, 

And must life's fairy visions all depart ? 

Oh, surely, no ! for all that fired my heart 
To rapture here shall live with me on high. 
And that fair form that won my earliest vow, 

That my young spirit prized all else above, 

And now adored as freedom, now as love, 
Stands in seraphic guise before me now ! 

And as my failing senses fade away, 

It beckons me on high, to realms of endless day ! 

Theodore Korner. 




AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. 247 

124.— IN FAVOR OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. 

Delivered in Philadelphia, August 1, 1776, twenty-seven days after the 
Declaration of Independence. 

My countrymen, from the day on which an accommodation 
takes place between England and America on any other terms 
than as independent States I shall date the ruin of this coun- 
try. We are now, to the astonishment of the world, three 
millions of souls united in one common cause. This day we 
are called on to give a glorious example of what the wisest 
and best of men were rejoiced to view only in speculation. 
This day presents the world with the most august spectacle 
that its annals ever unfolded — millions of freemen voluntarily 
and deliberately forming themselves into a society for their 
common defense and common happiness. Immortal spirits 
of Hampden, Locke and Sydney! will it not add to your 
benevolent joys to behold your posterity rising to the dignity 
of men, evincing to the world the reality and expediency of 
your systems, and in the actual enjoyment of that equal liberty 
which you were happy when on earth in delineating and re- 
commending to mankind ? 

Other nations have received their laws from conquerors ; 
some are indebted for a constitution to the sufferings of their 
ancestors through revolving centuries. The people of this 
country alone have formally and deliberately chosen a gov- 
ernment for themselves, and with open, uninfluenced consent 
bound themselves into a social compact. And, fellow-country- 
men, if it ever was granted to mortals to trace the designs of 
Providence and interpret its manifestations in favor of their 
cause, we may, with humility of soul, cry out, Not unto its, 

NOT UNTO US, BUT TO THY NAME BE THE PRAISE. The COn- 

fusion of the devices of our enemies and the rage of the ele- 
ments against them have done almost as much toward our 
success as either our counsels or our arms. 

The time at which this attempt on our liberties was made, 
when we were ripened into maturity, had acquired a know- 
ledge of war, and were free from the incursions of intestine 



248 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

enemies ; the gradual advances of our oppressors, enabling us 
to prepare for our defense ; the unusual fertility of our lands ; 
the clemency of the seasons ; the success which at first attended 
our feeble arms, producing unanimity among our friends and 
compelling our internal foes to acquiescence, — these are all 
strong and palpable marks and assurances that Providence is 
yet gracious unto zlon, that it will turn away the 
captivity of Jacob ! 

Driven from every other corner of the earth, freedom of 
thought and the right of private judgment in matters of con- 
science direct their course to this happy country as their last 
asylum. Let us cherish the noble guests! Let us shelter 
them under the wings of universal toleration! Be this the 
seat of unbounded Religious Freedom! She will bring 
with her in her train Industry, Wisdom and Commerce. Our 
union is now complete. You have in the field armies suflicient 
to repel the whole force of your enemies. The hearts of your 
soldiers beat high with the spirit of freedom. Go on, then, in 
your generous enterprise, with gratitude to Heaven for past 
success and confidence of it in the future ! For my own part, 
I ask no greater blessing than to share with you the common 
danger and the common glory. If I have a wish dearer 
to my soul than that my ashes may be mingled with those of 
a Warren and a Montgomery, it is that these American 
States may never cease to be free and independent ! 

Samuel Adams, 1722-1803. 



125.— REFORM IRRESISTIBLE. 

Sir, I have from the beginning of these discussions sup- 
ported reform on two grounds : first, because I believe it to 
be in itself a good thing ; and secondly, because I think the 
dangers of withholding it to be so great that even if it were 
an evil it would be the less of two evils. We have heard it 
said a hundred times during these discussions that the people 



REFORM IRRESISTIBLE. 249 

are more free than ever they were, that the government is 
more democratic than ever it was ; and this is urged as an 
argument against reform. I admit the fact, but I deny the 
inference. The history of England is the history of a gov- 
ernment constantly giving way — sometimes peaceably, some- 
times after a violent struggle, but constantly giving way — 
before a nation which has been constantly advancing. It is 
not sufficient to look merely at the form of government. "We 
must look to the state of the public mind. 

The worst tyrant that ever had his neck wrung in modern 
Europe might have passed for a paragon in Persia or Morocco. 
Our Indian subjects submit patiently to a monopoly of salt. 
We tried a stamp-duty — a duty so light as to be hardly percep- 
tible — on the fierce breed of the old Puritans, and we lost an 
empire. The government of Louis XVI. was certainly a much 
better and milder government than that of Louis XIV., yet Louis 
XIV. was admired, and even loved, by his people ; Louis XVI. 
died on the scaffold. Why? Because, though the govern- 
ment had made many steps in the career of improvement, it 
had not advanced so rapidly as the nation. 

These things are written for our instruction. There is a 
change in society. There must be a corresponding change in 
the government. You may make the change tedious; you 
may make it violent ; you may — God in his mercy forbid ! — 
you may make it bloody ; but avert it you cannot. Of this I 
am assured, that, by means lawful or unlawful, to a termina- 
tion happy or unhappy, this contest must speedily come. Agi- 
tations of the public mind so deep and so long continued as those 
which we have witnessed do not end in nothing. In peace or 
in convulsion, by the law or in spite of the law, through 
the Parliament or over the Parliament, reform must be car- 
ried. Therefore be content to guide that movement which 
you cannot stop ; fling wide the gates to that force which else 
will enter through the breach. 

Macaulay (see p. 59). 



250 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



126.— ON MECHANICS' INSTITUTES. 

Delivered at Manchester, England, 1843. 

I don't know whether, at this time of day, we need tc 
trouble ourselves very much to rake up the ashes of the dead- 
and-gone objections that were wont to be urged by all men of 

all parties against institu- 
tions such as this whose 
interests we are met to pro- 
mote, but their philosophy 
was always to be summed 
up in the unmeaning appli- 
cation of one short sentence. 
How often have we heard 
from a large class of men, 
wise in their generation, 
who would really seem to 
be born and bred for no 
other purpose than to pass 
into currency counterfeit 
and mischievous scraps of 
wisdom, as it is the sole 
charles dickens. pursuit of some other crim- 

inals to utter base coin, — how often have we heard from them, 
as an all-convincing argument, that "A little learning is a dan- 
gerous thing "/ 

Why, a little hanging was considered a very dangerous 
thing, according to the same authorities, with this difference 
— that because a little hanging was dangerous we had a great 
deal of it, and because a little learning was dangerous we were 
to have none at all. Why, when I hear such cruel absurdities 
gravely reiterated, I do sometimes begin to doubt whether the 
parrots of society are not more pernicious to its interests than 
its birds of prey. I should be glad to hear such people's esti- 
mate of the comparative danger of a "little learning" and a 
vast amount of ignorance ; I should be glad to know which 
they consider the most prolific parent of misery and crime. 




ON MECHANICS' INSTITUTES. 251 

Descending a little lower in the social scale, I should be 
glad to assist them in their calculations by carrying them into 
certain jails and nightly refuges I know of, where my own 
heart dies within me when I see thousands of immortal crea- 
tures condemned, without alternative or choice, to tread, not 
what our great poet calls "the primrose path" to the everlast- 
ing bonfire, but one of jagged flints and stones, laid down by 
brutal ignorance, and held together like the solid rocks by 
years of this most wicked axiom. 

The old doggerel rhyme so often written in the beginning of 
books says that 

" When house and lands are gone and spent, 
Then learning is most excellent," 

but I should be strongly disposed to reform the adage, and 
say that 

" Though house and land be never got, 
Learning can give what they can not." 

And this I know — that the first purchasable blessing earned 
by every man who makes an effort to improve himself in such 
a place as the Athenaeum is self-respect — an inward dignity 
of character which, once acquired and righteously maintained, 
nothing, no, not the hardest drudgery nor the direst poverty, 
can vanquish. 

Though he should find it hard for a season even to keep 
the wolf hunger from his door, let him but once have chased 
the dragon ignorance from his hearth, and self-respect and 
hope are left him. You could no more deprive him of these 
sustaining qualities by loss or destruction of his worldly goods 
than you could by plucking out his eyes take from him an 
internal consciousness of the bright glory of the sun. 

The man who lives from day to day by the daily exercise 
in his sphere of hands or head, and seeks to improve himself 
in such a place as the Athenseum, acquires for himself that 
property of soul which has in all times upheld struggling men 
of every degree, but self-made men especially and always. He 
secures to himself that faithful companion which, while it has 



252 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

ever lent the light of its countenance to men of rank and emi- 
nence who have deserved it, has ever shed its brightest consola- 
tions on men of low estate and almost hopeless means. It 
took its patient seat beside Sir Walter Raleigh in his dungeon 
study in the Tower, it laid its head upon the block with More, 
but it did not disdain to watch the stars with Ferguson the 
shepherd's boy; it walked the streets in mean attire with 
Crabbe ; it was a poor barber here in Lancashire with Ark- 
wright ; it was a tallow-chandler's son in Boston with Frank- 
lin ; it worked at shoemaking with Bloomfield in his garret ; 
it followed the plow with Burns ; and high above the noise of 
the loom and hammer it whispers courage even at this day in 
ears I could name in Sheffield and in Manchester. 

Charles Dickens, 1812-1870. 



127.— THE POWER OF SHORT WORDS. 

Think not that strength lies in the big round word, 

Or that the brief and plain must needs be weak. 
To whom can this be true who once has heard 

The cry for help, the tongue that all men speak 
When want, or woe, or fear is in the throat, 

So that each word gasped out is like a shriek 
Pressed from the sore heart, or a strange wild note 

Sung by some fay or fiend ? There is a strength 
Which dies if stretched too far or spun too fine, 

Which has more height than breadth, more depth than 
length. 
Let but this force of thought and speech be mine, 

And he that will may take the sleek fat phrase 
Which glows and burns not, though it gleam and shine — 

Light but not heat — a flash but not a blaze ! 

Nor mere strength is it that the short word boasts : 
It serves of more than fight or storm to tell — 

The roar of waves that clash on rock-bound coasts, 
The crash of tall trees when the wild winds swell, 



HOTSPUR BEADING THE LETTER. 253 

The roar of guns, the groans of men that die 

On blood-stained fields. It has a voice as well 
For them that far off on their sick-beds lie ; 

For them that weep, for them that mourn the dead ; 
For them that laugh, and dance, and clap the hand ; 

To Joy's quick step, as well as Grief's slow tread, 
The sweet, plain words we learnt at first keep time ; 

And though the theme be sad, or gay, or grand, 
With each, with all, these may be made to chime, 
In thought, or speech, or song, in prose or rhyme. 

Joseph Addison Alexander, 1809-1860. 

128.— HOTSPUR READING- THE LETTER. 

" But for my own part, my lord, I could be well contented 
to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house." He 
could be contented ! Why is he not, then ? In respect of the 
love he bears our house ! He shows in this he loves his own 
barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. 
{Beads.) " The purpose you undertake is dangerous." Why, 
that's certain ; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink : 
but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle danger we 
pluck the flower safety. (Reads.) " The purpose you under- 
take is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain, the 
time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light for the 
counterpoise of so great an opposition." Say you so ? say you 
so ? I say unto you again, You are a shallow, cowardly hind, 
and you lie ! What a lack-brain is this ! By the Lord, our 
plot is a good plot as ever was laid, our friends true and con- 
stant ; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation — an 
excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue 
is this ! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the 
general course of the action. 'Zounds ! an I were now by this 
rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my 
father, my uncle and myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, my 
lord of York and Owen Glendower ? Is there not, besides, the 
Douglas ? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms 

22 



254 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



by the ninth of the next month, and are they not, some of 
them, set forward already ? What a pagan rascal is this — an 
infidel ! Ha ! you shall see now in very sincerity of fear and 
cold heart will he to the king and lay open all our proceed- 
iugs. Oh, I could divide myself and go to buffets for moving 
such a dish of skimmed milk with so honorable an action ! 
Hang him ! let him tell the king — we are prepared ; I will set 
forward to-night.* Shakspeare. 



129.— LOCHINVAR. 




Oh, young Lochinvar is 
come out of the west ; 

Through all the wide bor- 
der his steed was the best ; 

And save his good broad- 
sword, he weapon had 
none; 

He rode all unarmed, and 
he rode all alone. 

So faithful in love and so 
dauntless in war, 

There never was knight like 
the young Lochinvar. 



He stayed not for brake and 
scott. he stopped not for stone ; 

He swam the Eske Kiver where ford there was none ; 
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
The bride had consented, the gallant came late ; 
For a laggard in love and a dastard in war 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 



So boldly he entered the ISTetherby hall, 

Among bridesmen and kinsmen, and brothers and all. 

* Hotspur is a choleric, easily roused chai'acter, blunt, impulsive, 
courageous. The passages in quotation-marks are supposed to be parts 
of the letter he is rending. 



LOCHINVAR. 255 



Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword — 
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word — 
" Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ? " 

"I long wooed your daughter — my suit you denied : 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — 
And now am I come with this lost love of mine 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar ! " 

The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up ; 
He quaffed off the wine and he threw down the cup. 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar ; 
" Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 

While her mother did fret and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, 

And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'Twere better, by far, 

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar ! " 

One touch to her hand and one word in her ear, 
When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near ; 
So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung. 
" She is won ! we are gone ! over bank, bush and scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow ! " quoth young Lochinvar 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 

Forsters, Fen wicks and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; 

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see ! 

So daring in love and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ! 

Sir Walter Scott, 1771-1832. 



256 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

130.— LOVE JOY'S LAST SPEECH. 

Men of Alton, you come together for the purpose of driving 
out a confessedly innocent man for no cause but that he dares 
to think and speak as his conscience and his God dictate. Will 
conduct like this stand the scrutiny of your country, of pos- 
terity — above all, of the judgment-day? For remember the 
Judge of that day is no respecter of persons. Pause, I beseech 
you, and reflect. The present excitement will soon be over, 
the voice of conscience will at last be heard, and in some 
season of honest thought, even in this world, as you review the 
scenes of this hour you will be compelled to say, " He was 
right, he was right." 

But you have been exhorted to be lenient and compas- 
sionate, and in driving me away to affix no unnecessary dis- 
grace upon me. Sir, I reject all such compassion ! Disgrace 
me? You cannot disgrace me. Scandal and calumny and 
falsehood have already done their worst. My shoulders have 
borne the burden till it sits easy upon them. You may hang 
me up as the mob hung up the martyrs of Vicksburg, you 
may burn me at the stake as they did Mcintosh at St. Louis, 
or you may tar and feather me or throw me into the Missis- 
sippi, as you have often threatened to do ; but you cannot 
disgrace me. I, and I only, can disgrace myself, and the 
deepest of all disgraces would be at a time like this to deny 
my Master by forsaking his cause. 

Again, you have been told that I have a family who are 
dependent on me, and this has been given as a reason why I 
should be driven off as gently as possible. It is true, Mr. 
Chairman, I am a husband and a father, and this it is that 
adds the bitterest ingredient to the cup of sorrow I am called 
to drink. Yet I am not unhappy. I have counted the cost, 
and stand prepared freely to offer up my all in the service of 
God. I am commanded to forsake father and mother and 
wife and children for Jesus' sake ; and as his professed disciple, 
I stand prepared to do it. The time for fulfilling this pledge 
in my case it seems to me has come. 



ST. PAUL AT ATHENS 



257 



Sir, I dare not flee away from Alton. Should I attempt it, 
I should feel that the angel of the Lord with his flaming sword 
was pursuing me wherever I went. It is because I fear God 
that I am not afraid of all who oppose me in this city. No, 
sir ; the contest has commenced here, and here it must be fin- 
ished. Before God and you all I here pledge myself to con- 
tinue in it, if need be, till death. If I fall, my grave shall be 
made in Alton. 

Elijah P. Lovejoy. 




131.— ST. PAUL AT ATHENS. 

Behold St. Paul at Athens ; think of the matchless splen- 
dor which blazed upon his view as he rolled his eyes round 
the enchanting panorama that encircled the hill of Mars. On 
the one hand, as he stood upon the summit of the rock, beneath 
the canopy of heaven was spread a glorious prospect of moun- 
tains, islands, seas and skies ; on the other, quite within his 
view, was the plain of Marathon, where the wrecks of former 
generations and the tombs of departed heroes mingled together 
in silent desolation. Behind him towered the lofty Acropolis, 
crowned with the pride of Grecian architecture. 

There, in the zenith of their splendor and the perfection o^ 

22 * 



258 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

their beauty, stood those peerless temples the very fragments 
of which are viewed by modern travelers with an idolatry 
almost equal to that which reared them. Stretched along the 
plain below him, and reclining her head on the slope of the 
neighboring hills, was Athens, mother of the arts and sciences, 
with her noble offspring sporting by her side. The Porch, the 
Lyceum and the Grove, with the stations of departed sages 
and the forms of their living disciples, were all presented to 
the apostle's eye. What mind possessing the slightest preten- 
sion to classic taste can think of his situation, and such sub- 
lime and captivating scenery, without a momentary rapture ? 
Yet there, even there, did this accomplished scholar stand as 
insensible to all this grandeur as if nothing was before him 
but the treeless, turfless desert. Absorbed in the holy abstrac- 
tions of his own mind, he saw no charms, felt no fascination, 
but on the contrary was pierced with the most poignant dis- 
tress ; and what was the cause ? 

"He saw the city wholly given to idolatry." To him it 
presented nothing but a magnificent mausoleum, decorated, it 
is true, with the richest productions of the sculptor and the 
architect, but, still, where the souls of men lay dead in tres- 
passes and sins ; while the dim light of philosophy that still 
glimmered in the schools appeared but as the lamp of the sep- 
ulchre, shedding its pale and sickly ray around these gorgeous 
chambers of death. 

John A. James. 



132.— THE OLD GRENADIER'S STORY. 

'Twas the day beside the Pyramids — it seems but an hour ago — 
That Kleber's Foot stood firm in squares, returning blow for blow. 
The Mamelukes were tossing their standards to the sky, 
When I heard a child's voice say, " My men, teach me the way to die ! " 

'Twas a little drummer with his side torn terribly with shot, 
But still he feebly beat his drum, as though the wound were not. 
And when the Mameluke's wild horse burst with a scream and cry, 
He said, " O men of the Forty-third, teach me the xvay to die ! 



THE OLD GRENADIER'S STORY. 259 

" My mother has got other sons with stouter hearts than mine, 
But none more ready blood for France to pour out free as wine. 
Yet still life's sweet," the brave lad moaned, "fair are this earth and 

sky; 
Then, comrades of the Forty-third, teach me the way to die!" 

I saw Salenche of the granite heart wiping his burning eyes — 
It was by far more pitiful than mere loud sobs and cries ; 
One bit his cartridge till his lip grew black as winter sky, 
But still the boy moaned, " Forty-third, teach me the way to die ! " 

Oh, never saw I sight like that ! the sergeant flung down flag, 
Even the fifer bound his brow with a wet and bloody rag, 
Then looked at locks and fixed their steel, but never made reply, 
Until he sobbed out once again, " Teach me the way to die!" 

Then, with a shout that flew to God, they strode into the fray : 
I saw their red plumes join and wave, but slowly melt away. 
The last who went — a wounded man — bade the poor boy good-bye, 
And said, " We men of the Forty-third teach you the way to die !" 

I never saw so sad a look as the poor youngster cast, 

"When the hot smoke of cannon in cloud and whirlwind passed. 

Earth shook, and heaven answered ; I watched his eagle eye 

As he faintly moaned, " The Forty-third teach me the way to die ! " 

Then, with a musket for a crutch, he leaped into the fight ; 
I, with a bullet in my hip, had neither strength nor might, 
But proudly beating on his drum, a fever in his eye, 
I heard him moan, " The Forty-third taught me the way to die!" 

They found him on the morrow stretched on a heap of dead ; 
His hand was in the grenadier's who at his bidding bled ; 
They hung a medal round his neck and closed his dauntless eye ; 
On the stone they cut, " The Forty-third taught him the way to die !" 

'Tis forty years from then till now — the grave gapes at my feet, 
Yet when I think of such a boy, I feel my old heart beat ; 
And from my sleep I sometimes wake, hearing a feeble cry, 
And a voice that says, " Now, Forty-third, teach me the way to die!" 

George Walter Thornbury. 



260 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



133.— LAST SPEECH OP MADAME ROLAND. 

Not to its own times merely does the generous mind fee] 
that it belongs. It comprehends in its regard the whole hu- 
man race, and extends its care even to posterity. It was my 

lot to be the friend of 
men proscribed and 
sacrificed by those who 
hated them for their 
superiority. And I 
must perish in my turn ! 
I have a double claim 
to death at your hands. 
When innocence 
walks to the scaffold 
at the command of er- 
ror and of guilt, every 
step she takes is an ad- 
vance to glory. Might 
I be the last victim of 
that furious spirit of 
party by which you 
I quit this unfortunate 
of virtue and drinks the 




MADAME ROLAND. 



are impelled, with what joy would 
earth, which swallows up the friends 
blood of the just ! 

Truth! Friendship! Country! — sacred objects, sentiments 
dear to my heart — accept my last sacrifice ! My life was de- 
voted to you, and you will render my death easy and glorious. 
Righteous Heaven, enlighten this wretched people for whom 
I invoke liberty. Liberty ? Ah ! that is for noble minds, 
not for weak beings who enter into a covenant with guilt, and 
try to varnish cowardice and selfishness with the name of pru- 
dence ; not for corrupt wretches who rise from the bed of vice 
or from the mire of indigence to feast their eyes on the noble 
blood that streams from the scaffold. 

Oh no ! Liberty is the portion of a people who delight in 
humanity, who revere justice, despise flattery and venerate 



THE CLOUD AND THE SUNBEAM. 261 

truth. While you are not such a people, O my fellow-citi- 
zeus, in vain will you talk of liberty. Instead of liberty you 
will have licentiousness, and to that you all in your turns will 
fall victims. You will ask for bread, and will get — corpses ! 
And at length you will bow down your necks to the yoke and 
find your vile refuge in the rule of a despot. 

I make no concealment of my sympathies, my opinions. I 
know that a Roman mother was once sent to the scaffold for 
lamenting the death of her son. I know that in times of de- 
lusion and party rage he who dares avow himself the friend 
of the proscribed exposes himself to their fate. But I do not 
fear death. I never feared anything but guilt, and I will 
not purchase life at the price of a lie. Woe to the times, 
woe to the people, among whom to do homage to disregarded 
truth is to incur their hate ! Happy he who, under such cir- 
cumstances, is bold enough to defy that hate — as I do ! 

Madame Roland.* 

134.— THE CLOUD AND THE SUNBEAM. 
CHARACTERS — Robert Touchwood, J. Jaundice Thorn, Vivian Bright. 

Touchwood. Heigh-ho! This is one of my doleful days. 
Somehow, the drugs I swallow don't seem to do me any good. 
I've felt worse ever since I took that last bottle of Humm's 
Unfailing Remedy. [Feels of his pulse.'] There's something 
wrong about this pulse. Too much febrile action. I am 
afraid my lungs are affected. [Drums on his chest'] Shouldn't 
wonder if I was dropsical ; or is it an apoplectic tendency ? I 
am feeling rather queer about the head — or is it about the heart ? 

Enter Thorn. 
Thorn. Good-morning, Touchwood ! 
Touch. Well met, Thorn ! 

*Born in Paris, in 1754, she became the wife of a French statesman in 
1779. During the Reign of Terror she was arrested on the fall of the party 
to which she belonged, and condemned to death. All her eloquence and 
courage could not save her from the guillotine. She died in 1793 with the 
utmost heroism, one of her last exclamations being, "O Liberty! how 
many crimes are committed in thy name !" 



262 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Thorn. Aren't you imprudent ? 

Touch. Imprudent in what ? 

Thorn. In venturing out in such a raw east wind. I didn't 
like the sound of that cough of yours the other night at the 
concert. If I'm right, you lost an aunt not long ago by pul- 
monary consumption ? 

Touch. True; 'twas my stepmother's sister. Anything in 
that to excite alarm ? 

Thorn. Not if you're careful, perhaps. How gray you're 
getting behind the ears ! 

Touch. Am I ? It's the effect of disease, I suppose. 

Thorn. Yes. You can't be more than twenty-five ; at this 
rate, you'll look like an old man at thirty — if you live so long. 
Have you seen Miss Laura Blythe lately ? 

Touch. Not since the concert. Why do you ask ? 

Thorn. She's on the point of being engaged to Vapid. 

Touch. I noticed he was very attentive. 

Thorn. You had some hopes in that quarter yourself, hadn't 
you? 

Touch. I should have knelt at her feet long ago could I 
have presumed that such a melancholy wreck as I am might 
win the favor of a sprightly, beautiful young woman like 
Laura. 

Thorn. Ah ! In your state of health you shouldn't think 
of marriage. By the way, I found in the New York Slasher 
a notice of your book, and cut it out. Here it is. [Produces 
piece cut from a newspaper.'] 

Touch. Is it friendly ? 

Thorn. Not exactly. It pronounces the book an abortion, 
and says the best thing in it is the last line on page 480, and 
that's the word finis. Perhaps you'd like to read the notice ? 

Touch. No, I'd rather not. I've concluded that the book is 
a failure. I've given up all hope of having a kind word said 
of it. Was a fool to write it, and a greater fool to publish it. 

Thorn. Yes ; I've heard two or three of your friends make 
the same remark. Are you engaged at one o'clock ? 

Touch. No. Why do you ask ? 



THE CLOUD AND THE SUNBEAM. 263 

Thorn. I'd like to take you to see a picture. 

Touch. I'll go. What is it? 

Thorn. Death on the Pale Horse. Wait here till I conie 
back. [Exit. 

Touch. Poor Thorn ! He sees I'm low-spirited, and does his 
best to entertain me ; but what can you do where the nervous 
system is shattered as mine is ? How vain the attempt to 
amuse and cheer ! As well try to innate a punctured balloon 
or give buoyancy to a waterlogged ship ! Heigh-ho !' 

Enter Vivian. 

Vivian. Ah, Robert ! You're just the man I wanted to see. 
The cream of the morning to you ! Glad to see you out this 
lovely day. Why, how well you're looking ! 

Touch. Do you think so ? 

Vivian. Think so ? I know so. You've improved wonder- 
fully within a week. 

Touch. I think it must be the effect of Gargle's Alterative 
that I've been trying. I'll order another case. 

Vivian. Stuff and nonsense ! You're getting well in spite 
of your vile mixtures, not in consequence of them. Throw 
physic to the dogs ! Come and pass a month with me at Surf- 
side. There inhale such oxygen as Nature offers free of cost, 
and my life on it, you'll be a well man before you've been with 
us a week. What say you ? Wife and children will be de- 
lighted. Cars start at a quarter past one. Will you go ? 

Touch. I'll think of it seriously. 

Vivian. Seriously ? No ! Think of it gayly. I fix only one 
condition : it is that you leave all your de — de — detestable 
drugs behind. We don't tolerate such trash at Surfside. 

Touch. You'll let me take my Gargle's Alterative and my 
Pike's Elixir ? 

Vivian. Not a drop ! Come, Touchwood, consent ! We'll 
talk over old times, old schoolmates, old frolics. Do you re- 
member the trick we played on Master Grimshaw that day he 
kept us after school to thrash us ? Ah, Touchwood, you were 
a sad rogue ! 



264 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Touch. Ha, ha, ha ! Those were jolly times ! But, I say, 
Vivian, you used to put me up to all the mischief I was ever 
guilty of. 

Vivian. No, no ! Do you remember the time we drove oif 
with Squire Chapman's team ? Who plied the whip till the 
old horse scampered down the hill like mad, and frightened 
the whole population ? 

Touch. Ha, ha, ha! We were wild ones. 

Vivian. What do you say to my invitation? My cousin 
Laura Blythe is with us. What's the matter? You don't 
seem to like that. 

Touch. If she's with you, of course Charles Vapid will be 
your guest. 

Vivian. No, he'll not. The little coxcomb has received his 
walking ticket. He'll not trouble Laura again. By the way, 
if it weren't for betraying confidence, I'd tell you something 
my wife told me about Laura's preferences. But it will make 
you blush, so I'll keep it to myself. 

Touch. No, let me hear it, Vivian — let me hear it. 

Vivian. You shall hear it on the beach at Surfside, under a 
clear starlight, with the ocean before us and my pine forest for 
a background. But I'm getting poetical; and speaking of 
poetry, what a capital notice of your book there is in the last 
London Critic ! 

Touch. I didn't know there had been one. 

Vivian. Is it possible? Why, my dear fellow, the Critic 
fills two or three of its pages with quotations — says 'tis the 
book of the season, and winds up with a hope that such a pen 
as Mr. Touchwood's will not be suffered to lie idle. 

Touch. Does the Critic say all that ? 

Vivian. All that, and more. Now that we've got our cue 
from England, how you will be puffed, my dear fellow ! How 
you will be interviewed ! What baskets of letters you'll have, 
begging your autograph ! What importunities to sit for your 
portrait ! We shall have you in the illustrated weeklies ; we 
shall see you looking out on us with a benignant smile from 
the shop windows ; we shall find paragraphs like this in the 



THE CLOUD AND THE SUNBEAM. 265 

daily papers — ahem ! — " We learn that Mr. Robert Touch- 
wood is passing a week or two with a distinguished party at a 
friend's house at Surfside." So you see some of the glory will 
be reflected on us. You can't deprive us of that. Ha, ha, 
ha! 

Touch. Ha, ha, ha ! Why, Vivian, you are getting extrav- 
agant. 

Vivian. No, sir. 'Twill happen within a twelvemonth. I 
feel it in my bones. 

Touch. Good ! Vivian, I'll go with you to Surfside. 

Vivian. Under the conditions ? 

Touch. Under the conditions. 

Vivian. You agree that all pills, elixirs, patent medicines 
and drugs shall be forfeited as contraband ? 

Touch. I agree. 

Vivian. Why, man, the very thought of the thing has sent 
back the color to your cheeks and added five pounds to your 
weight. At this rate you'll eat me out of house and home 
before the month is ended. 

Touch. We'll be jolly, eh, Vivian? 

Vivian. Jolly ! We'll be jubilant. We'll outscream the 
sea-gulls and outroar the breakers. We'll astonish old Nep- 
tune with our fun. 

Re-enter Thorn. 

Thorn. I'm punctual, you see, Touchwood. Are you ready 
to go and see that picture ? 

Vivian. What picture, may I be allowed to ask ? 

Thorn. Death on the Pale Horse. 

Vivian. Avaunt and quit my sight ! Death on the Pale 
Horse, indeed ! No, sir ! He goes to see Life on the Black 
Mare. You shall ride my little Bessie, Robert. Gentle as a 
kitten, and fleet as a locomotive. Will go a mile in 2.40, 
easy. 

Touch. You must excuse me, Thorn. I am going to Surf- 
side. 

Thorn. I hope not, with that pulmonary difficulty of yours. 

23 



266 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

I was going to propose driving you this afternoon over to the 
new cemetery. I've picked out a very nice lot for you. Beau- 
tifully shaded with cypresses, weeping willows and copper 
beeches. 

Vivian. Avaunt, I say ! Vanish, Vapor ! Dissipate, Cloud ! 
Dry up, Wet Blanket ! You miserable killjoy ! You born 
hearse-driver! You walking memento mori! Out of my 
sight ! 

Thorn. Positively, Mr. Bright, I can't comprehend such tur- 
bulent hilarity, such heartless frivolity, on the part of a ration- 
al being in a dying world. I can't comprehend it. 

Vivian. Of course you can't, any more than an owl can 
comprehend a rainbow. Look deeper, you impious saint, and 
you'd see life under death, joy under sorrow. But you 
prefer lingering in the charnel-house to penetrating to the 
beatitudes beyond the veil. Suit your own taste, but don't 
think to throw your black crape over our heads. Let me 
catch you within a mile of Surfside, and I'll set my dogs on 
you. Go ! 

Thorn. Good-morning, Mr. Touchwood. Should you want 
a lawyer or a clergyman at any time, I shall be happy to 
show my friendship. [Exit. 

Vivian. Ha, ha, ha ! His friendship ! The friendship of 
frost for roses ! 

Touch. Ha, ha, ha ! I'm glad he's gone. 

Vivian. And now for Surfside and Laura ! 

Touch. Done! I feel ten years younger already, my boy ! 
We'll have high times. 

Vivian. High times? We'll have picnics and regattas and 
chowder-parties every day. We'll have a band playing on 
the lawn and entertain the whole village. 

Touch. We'll go up in a balloon. 

Vivian. Bravo ! We'll have a perpetual breach of the 
peace. Come on. We mustn't miss the cars. [Exeunt. 

Sargent. 



POLITICS AND METAPHYSICS. 



267 




135.— POLITICS AND METAPHYSICS. 

The great ques- 
tion at issue has not 
been directly and 
fairly met. Is this 
a federal union ? a 
union of States, as 
distinct from that 
of individuals? Is 
the sovereignty in 
the several States 
or in the American 
people in the ag- 
gregate ? 

The very lan- 
guage which we 
are compelled to oakhotjn. 

use when speaking of our political institutions affords proof con- 
clusive as to its real character. The terms union, federal, 
united, all imply a combination of sovereignties, a confedera- 
tion of States. They are never applied to an association of 
individuals. Who ever heard of the United States of New 
York, of Massachusetts or of Virginia? Who ever heard 
the term federal or union applied to the aggregation of indi- 
viduals into one community ? 

Nor is the other point less clear — that the sovereignty is in 
the several States, and that our system is a union of twenty- 
four sovereign powers under a constitutional compact, and not 
of a divided sovereignty between the States severally and the 
United States. In spite of all that has been said, I maintain 
that sovereignty is in its nature indivisible. It is the supreme 
power in a State, and we might just as well speak of half a 
square or half a triangle as of half a sovereignty. It is a 
gross error to confound the exercise of sovereign powers with 
sovereignty itself, or the delegation of such powers with the 
surrender of them. A sovereign may delegate his powers to 



268 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

be exercised by as many agents as he may think proper, under 
such conditions and with such limitations as he may impose ; 
but to surrender any portion of his sovereignty to another is 
to annihilate the whole. 

The Senator from Delaware calls this " metaphysical rea- 
soning," which he says he cannot comprehend. If by meta- 
physics he means that scholastic refinement which makes dis- 
tinctions without difference, no one can hold it in more utter 
contempt than I do ; but if, on the contrary, he means the 
power of analysis and combination — that power which reduces 
the most complex idea into its elements, which traces causes 
to their first principle, and by the power of generalization and 
combination unites the whole in one harmonious system — 
then, so far from deserving contempt, it is the highest attribute 
of the human mind. It is the power that raises man above 
the brute — that distinguishes his faculties from mere sagacity, 
which he holds in common with inferior animals. 

It is this power which has raised the astronomer from being 
a mere gazer at the stars to the high intellectual eminence of 
a Newton or a Laplace, and astronomy itself from a mere 
observation of insulated facts into that noble science which 
displays to our admiration the system of the universe. 

And shall this high power of the mind, which has effected 
such wonders when directed to the laws that control the ma- 
terial world, be for ever prohibited, under a senseless cry of 
metaphysics, from being applied to the high purpose of political 
science and legislation? I hold them to be subject to laws as 
fixed as matter itself, and to be as fit a subject for the applica- 
tion of the highest intellectual power. Denunciation may 
indeed fall upon the philosophical inquirer into these first 
principles, as it did upon Galileo and Bacon when they first 
unfolded the great discoveries which have immortalized their 
names. But the time will come when truth will prevail in 
spite of prejudice and denunciation, and when politics and 
legislation will be considered as much a science as astronomy 
and chemistry. 

John C. Calhoun, 1782-1850. 



THE VAGABONDS. 269 



136.— THE VAGABONDS. 

We are two travelers, Roger and I. 

Roger's my dog — come here, you scamp ! 
Jump for the gentleman — mind your eye ! 

Over the table — look out for the lamp ! 
The rogue is growing a little old ; 

Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, 
And slept out-doors when nights were cold, 

And ate and drank and starved together. 

We've learned what comfo*rt is, I tell you — 

A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, 
A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow ! 

The paw he holds up there's been frozen), 
Plenty of catgut for my fiddle 

(This out-door business is bad for strings), 
Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, 

And Roger and I set up for kings. 

No, thank ye, sir — I never drink ; 

Roger and I are exceedingly moral. 
Aren't we, Roger ? — see him wink ! 

Well, something hot, then — we won't quarrel. 
He's thirsty, too — see him nod his head ? 

What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk ! 
He understands every word that's said, 

And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. 

The truth is, sir, now I reflect, 

I've been so sadly given to grog 
I wonder I've not lost the respect 

(Here's to you, sir !) even of my dog. 
But he sticks by through thick and thin ; 

And this old coat, with its empty pockets 
And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, 

He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. 

23 * 



270 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

There isn't another creature living 

Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, 
So fond, so faithful and so forgiving 

To such a miserable, thankless master! 
No, sir — see him wag his tail and grin ! 

By George ! it makes my old eyes water ! 
That is, there's something in this gin 

That chokes a fellow. But no matter. 

We'll have some music if you're willing, 

And Roger (hem ! what a plague a cough is, sir !) 
Shall march a little. Start, you villain ! 

Stand straight ! 'Bout face ! Salute your officer ! 
Put up that paw ! Dress ! Take your rifle ! 

(Some dogs have arms, you see !) Now hold your 
Cap while the gentleman gives a trifle 

To aid a poor old patriot soldier. 

March ! Halt ! Now show how the rebel shakes 

When he stands up to hear his sentence. 
Now tell us how many drams it takes 

To honor a jolly new acquaintance. 
Five yelps — that's five ; he's mighty knowing. 

The night's before us, fill the glasses ! 
Quick, sir ! I'm ill — my brain is going ! 

Some brandy — thank you — there ! it passes ! 

Why not reform ? That's easily said ; 

But I've gone through such wretched treatment, 
Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, 

And scarce remembering what meat meant, 
That my poor stomach's past reform ; 

And there are times when, mad with thinking, 
I'd sell out heaven for something warm 

To prop a horrible inward sinking. 

Is there a way to forget to think ? 

At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, 



THE VAGABONDS. 271 

A dear girl's love — But I took to drink — ■ 
The same old story ; you know how it ends. 

If you could have seen these classic features — 
You needn't laugh, sir ; they were not then 

Such a burning libel on God's creatures : 
I was one of your handsome men ! 

If you had seen her, so fair and young, 

Whose head was happy on this breast, 
If you could have heard the songs I sung 

When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed 
That ever I, sir, should be straying 

From door to door with fiddle and dog, 
Kagged and penniless, and playing 

To you to-night for a glass of grog. 

She's married since — a parson's wife ; 

'Twas better for her that we should part — 
Better the soberest, prosiest life 

Than a blasted home and a broken heart. 
I have seen her ? Once. I was weak and spent ; 

On the dusty road a carriage stopped, 
But little she dreamed, as on she went, 

Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped ! 

You've set me to talking, sir ; I'm sorry ; 

It makes me wild to think of the change ! 
What do you care for a beggar's story ? 

Is it amusing ? you find it strange ? 
I had a mother so proud of me ! 

'Twas well she died before — Do you know 
If the happy spirits in heaven can see 

The ruin and wretchedness here below ? 

Another glass, and strong, to deaden 

This pain, then Roger and I will start. 
I wonder has he such a lumpish, leaden, 

Aching thing in place of a heart ? 



272 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



He is sad sometimes, and would weep if he could, 
No doubt remembering things that were — 

A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food, 
And himself a sober, respectable cur. 

I'm better now ; that glass was warming — 

You rascal, limber your lazy feet ! 
We must be fiddling and performing 

For supper and bed, or starve in the street, 
Not a very gay life to lead, you think ? 

But soon Ave shall go where lodgings are free 
And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink — 

The sooner the better for Roger and me ! 

J. T. Trowbkidge. 



137.— RESULTS OF THE AMERICAN WAR, 1780. 

We are charged with 
expressing joy at the tri- 
umphs of America. True 
it is that in former ses- 
sions I proclaimed it as 
my sincere opinion that 
if the ministry had suc- 
ceeded in their first 
scheme against the lib- 
erties of America, the 
liberties of this country 
would have been at an end. Thinking this, as I did, in the 
sincerity of an honest heart, I rejoiced at the resistance which 
the ministry had met. That great and glorious statesman the 
late Lord Chatham, feeling for the liberties of his native coun- 
try, thanked Heaven that America had resisted. 

But it seems "all the calamities of the country are to be 
ascribed to the wishes and the joy and the speeches of oppo- 
sition." Oh, miserable and unfortunate ministry! oh, blind 
and incapable men ! whose measures are framed with so little 




RESULTS OF THE AMERICAN WAR. 273 

foresight and executed with so little firmness that they not 
only crumble to pieces, but bring ruin on the country, merely 
because one rash, weak or wicked man in the House of Com- 
mons makes a speech against them ! 

But who is he who arraigns gentlemen on this .side of the 
House with causing by their inflammatory speeches the mis- 
fortunes of their country? The accusation comes from one 
whose inflammatory harangues have led the nation, step by 
step, from violence to violence, in that inhuman, unfeeling 
system of blood and massacre which every honest man must 
detest, and which every good man must abhor and every wise 
man condemn ! And this man imputes the guilt of such meas- 
ures to those who had all along foretold the consequences, who 
had prayed, entreated and supplicated not only for America, 
but for the credit of the nation and its eventual welfare, to 
arrest the hand of power, meditating slaughter and directed 
by injustice ! 

What was the consequence of the sanguinary measures rec- 
ommended in those bloody, inflammatory speeches ? Though 
Boston was to be starved, though Hancock and Adams were 
proscribed, yet at the feet of these very men the Parliament 
of Great Britain was obliged to kneel, flatter and cringe ; and 
as it had the cruelty at one time to denounce vengeance 
against these men, so it had the meanness afterward to implore 
their forgiveness. Shall he who called the Americans " Han- 
cock and his crew" — shall he presume to reprehend any set 
of men for inflammatory speeches ? 

It is this accursed American war that has led us, step by 
step, into all our present misfortunes and national disgraces. 
What was the cause of our wasting forty millions of money 
and sixty thousand lives ? The American war ! What was 
it that produced the French rescript and a French war ? The 
American war ! What was it that produced the Spanish 
manifesto and Spanish war? The American war! What 
was it that armed forty-two thousand men in Ireland with the 
arguments carried on the points of forty thousand bayonets ? 
The American war! For what are we about to incur an ad- 

s 



274 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



ditional debt of twelve or fourteen millions ? This accursed, 
cruel, diabolical American war ! 

Charles James Fox, 1749-1806. 



138.— HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
FROM GHENT TO AIX. 

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
" Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew ; 
" Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through ; 

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 

And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting ; but while we drew near 

Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear ; 

At Boom a great yellow star came out to see; 

At Diiffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be ; 

And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half chime, 

So Joris broke silence with, " Yet there is time ! " 

At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the suu, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past, 
And I saw my stout galloper, Roland, at last, 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray — 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track ; 
And one eye's black intelligence — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! 



HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 275 

And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping od. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, " Stay spur ! 
Your Ross galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 
We'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, 
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky ; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 

And " Gallop ! " gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight ! " 

" How they'll greet us ! " and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, 

Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 

Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 

Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer ; 

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or 

good, 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is, friends flocking round, 
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
Which — the burgesses voted by common consent — 
Was no more than his due who brought good news from 
Ghent. Robert Browning. 



276 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



139.— MARIE ANTOINETTE, 1790.* 

It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen 
of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely 
never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a 

more delightful vision. I 
saw her just above the hori- 
zon, decorating and cheering 
the elevated sphere she just 
began to move in, glittering 
like the morning star, full of 
life, and splendor, and joy. 
Oh what a revolution! and 
what a heart must I have 
to contemplate without emo- 
tion that elevation and that 
fall! 

Little did I dream, when 
she added titles of venera- 
tion to those of enthusiastic, 
distant, respectful love, that 
she should ever be obliged to 
carry the sharp antidote 
against disgrace concealed in that bosom ; little did I dream 
that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her 
in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and 
of cavaliers ! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped 
from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened 
her with insult. 

But the age of chivalry is gone ; that of sophisters, econo- 
mists and calculators has succeeded, and the glory of Europe 
is extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall we behold 
that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, 
that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which 
kept alive even in servitude itself the spirit of an exalted 
freedom ! 




MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



* Born, 1755 ; beheaded, 1792. 



WILLIAM PENN UNDER ARREST. Ill 

The imbought grace of life, the cheap defense of nations, 
the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, is gone ! 
It is gone — that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honor, 
which felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage whilst 
it mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and 
under which vice itself lost half its evil by losing all its 

Edmund Burke (see p. 135). 



140.— WILLIAM PENN UNDER ARREST. 

A DIALOGUE AS IT ACTUALLY OCCURRED. 

In England, in the year 167U, William Penn, afterward the founder of 
Pennsylvania, was persecuted for his religious opinions, which were 
those of the Quakers. He was tyrannically arrested for speaking at a 
Quaker meeting in Wheeler street, in London, and brought before a 
magistrate named Sir John Robinson. We abridge from Dixon's life of 
Penn the conversation which took place in court on this occasion. 

Sir John Robinson. What is this person's name ? 

Constable. Mr. Penn, sir. 

Rob. Is your name Penn ? 

Penn. Dost thou not know me ? 

Rob. I don't know you ; I don't desire to know such as you. 

Penn. If not, why didst thou send for me hither ? 

Rob. Is that your name, sir ? 

Penn. Yes, yes, my name is Penn ; I am not ashamed of 
my name. 

Rob. Constable, where did you find him ? 

Constable. At Wheeler street, at a meeting, speaking to 
the people. 

Rob. You mean he was speaking to an unlawful assem- 

My! 

Constable. I don't know, indeed, sir. He was there, and he 
was speaking. 

Penn. I freely acknowledge that I was in Wheeler street, 
and I spoke to an assembly of people there. 

Rob. He confesses it. 

Penn. I do so ; I am not ashamed of my testimony. 

24 



278 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Rob. Mr. Perm, I am sorry for you. You are an ingenious 
gentleman — all the world must allow that— and you have 
a plentiful estate. Why should you render yourself unhappy 
by associating with such simple people ? 

Penn. I confess I have made it my choice to relinquish the 
company of those that are ingeniously wicked, to converse 
with those who are honestly simple. 

Rob. I wish thee wiser. 

Penn. I wish thee better. 

Rob. You have been as bad as other folks. 

Penn. When and where ? I charge thee tell the company 
to my face. 

Rob. Abroad, and at home too. 

Penn. I make this bold challenge to all men — justly to ac- 
cuse me with ever having been heard to swear, utter a curse 
or speak one obscene word. I trample thy slander under my 
feet! 

Rob. Well, Mr. Penn, I have no ill-will toward you. Your 
father was my friend, and I have a great deal of kindness for 
you. 

Penn. Thou hast an ill way of expressing it. 

Rob. Well, I must send you to Newgate for six months ; and 
when they are expired, you will come out. 

Penn. Is that all ? Thou well knowest that a longer im- 
prisonment has not daunted me. This is not the way to com- 
pass your ends. 

Rob. You bring yourself into trouble. You will be head- 
ing of parties, and drawing people after you. 

Penn. Thou mistakest. I would have thee and all men 
know that I scorn that religion which is not worth suffering 
for, and able to sustain those that are afflicted for its sake. 
Thy religion persecutes, mine forgives. I leave you all in 
perfect charity. 

Rob. Send a corporal with a file of musketeers with him. 

Penn. No, no ; send thy lackey. I know the way to New- 
gate. 



THE BATTLE. 



279 




SCHILLER. 



141.— THE BATTLE. 

Heavy and solemn, 

a cloudy column, 
Through the green plain 
they marching came. 
Measureless spread, like 

a table dread, 
For the wild grim dice 

of the iron game. 
Looks are bent on the 

shaking ground, 
Hearts beat loud with a 

knelling sound ; 
Swift by the breasts that 
must bear the brunt 
Gallops the major along the front ; 

"Halt!" 
And fettered they stand at the stark command, 
And the warriors, silent, halt ! 

Proud in the blush of morning glowing, 

What on the hill-top shines in flowing ? 
" See you the foeman's banners waving ? " 
" We see the foeman's banners waving ! " 
" God be with ye, children and wife ! " 

Hark to the music — the trump and the fife — 

How they ring through the ranks which they rouse to the 
strife ! 

Thrilling they sound, with their glorious tone, 

Thrilling they go through the marrow and bone ! 

Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er, 

In the life to come that we meet once more ! 

See the smoke how the lightning is cleaving asunder ! 
Hark ! the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their 
thunder ! 



* Translation of Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. 



280 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

From host to host, with kindling sound, 
The shouting signal circles round ; 
Ay, shout it forth to life or death, 
Freer already breathes the breath ! 
The war is waging, slaughter raging, 
And heavy through the reeking pall 

The iron death-dice fall ! 
Nearer they close, foes upon foes. 
'' Ready ! " from square to square it goes. 

They kneel as one man, from flank to flank, 
And the fire comes sharp from the foremost rank. 
Many a soldier to earth is sent, 
Many a gap by the balls is rent ; 
O'er the corse before springs the hinder man, 
That the line may not fail to the fearless van. 
To the right, to the left, and around and around, 
Death whirls in its dance on the bloody ground. 
God's sunlight is quenched in the fiery fight, 
Over the host falls a brooding night ! 
Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er, 
In the life to come that we meet once more ! 

The dead men lie bathed in the weltering blood, 
And the living are blent in the slippery flood, 
And the feet, as they reeling and sliding go, 
Stumble still on the corses that sleep below. 

" What ! Francis ! " " Give Charlotte my last farewell." 
As the dying man murmurs, the thunders swell. 

" I'll give — O God! are their guns so near ? 
Ho, comrades ! — yon volley ! — look sharp to the rear !- 
I'll give thy Charlotte thy last farewell ; 
Sleep soft! where death thickest descendeth in rain, 
The friend thou forsakest thy side may regain ! " 
Hitherward, thitherward, reels the fight, 
Dark and more darkly day glooms into night ; 
Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er, 
In the life to come that we meet once more ! 



DECLARATION OF IRISH RIGHTS. 281 

Hark to the hoofs that galloping go ! 

The adjutants flying ! 
The horsemen press hard on the panting foe, 
Their thunder booms, in dying — 
Victory ! 
Terror has seized on the dastards all, 
And their colors fall ! 

Victory ! 

Closed is the brunt of the glorious fight ; 

And the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the night. 

Trumpet and fife swelling choral along, 

The triumph already sweeps marching in song. 

Farewell, fallen brothers; though this life be o'er, 

There's another in ivhich ive shall meet you once more ! 

Schiller, 1759-1805. 

142.— DECLARATION OF IRISH RIGHTS. 

The English opposition are right — mere trade will not sat- 
isfy Ireland. They judge of us by other great nations — by 
the nation whose political life has been a struggle for liberty, 
America ! They judge of us with a true knowledge and just 
deference for our character, that a country enlightened as 
Ireland, chartered as Ireland, armed as Ireland and injured as 
Ireland will be satisfied with nothing less than liberty. 

What ! has England lost thirteen provinces, has she rec- 
onciled herself to this loss, and will she not be reconciled to 
the liberty of Ireland ? Take notice that the very constitution 
which I move you to declare for Ireland, Great Britain herself 
offered to America ! What ! has England offered this to the 
resistance of America, and will she refuse it to the loyalty of 
Ireland ? 

1 shall hear of ingratitude. I name the argument to de- 
spise it and the men who make use of it. I know the men 
who use it are not grateful ; they are insatiate, they are pub- 
lic extortioners who would stop the tide of public prosperity 
and turn it to the channel of their own emolument. I know 

24* 



282 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

of no species of gratitude which should prevent my country 
from being free, no gratitude which should oblige Ireland to 
be the slave of England. In cases of robbery and usurpation, 
nothing is an object of gratitude except the thing stolen, the 
charter spoliated. 

A nation's liberty cannot, like her treasure, be melted and 
parceled out in gratitude. No man can be grateful or liberal 
of his conscience, nor woman of her honor, nor nation of her 
liberty. There are certain unimpartable, inherent, invaluable 
properties not to be alienated from the person, whether body 
politic or body natural. With the same contempt do I treat 
that charge which says that Ireland is insatiable. Ireland asks 
nothing but that which Great Britain has robbed her of — her 
rights and privileges. To say that Ireland will not be satisfied 
with liberty because she is not satisfied with slavery is folly. 
I laugh at that man who supposes that Ireland will not be 
content with a free trade and a free constitution ; and would 
any man advise her to be content with less ? 

I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand my 
liberty. I do call upon you by the laws of the land and their 
violation, by the instruction of eighteen centuries, by the arms, 
inspiration and providence of the present moment, tell us the 
rule by which we shall go, assert the law of Ireland, declare 
the liberty of the land. I will not be answered by a public 
lie in the shape of an amendment ; neither, speaking for the 
subject's freedom, am I to hear of faction. I wish for nothing 
but to breathe in this our island, in common with my fellow- 
subjects, the air of liberty. 

I have no ambition, unless it be the ambition to break your 
chain and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied 
so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the 
British chain clanking to his rags. He may be naked — he 
shall not be in irons. And I do see the time is at hand, the 
spirit is gone forth, the declaration is planted ; and though 
great men should apostatize, yet the cause will live, and though 
the public speaker should die, yet the immortal fire shall out- 
last the organ which conveyed it, and the breath of liberty, 




THE LOVE OF LIFE. 283 

like the word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, 

but survive him. 

Henry Gkattan (see p. 314.) 



143.— THE LOVE OF LIFE. 

Our attachment to every object 
around us increases, in general, from 
the length of our acquaintance with 
it. "I would not choose," says a ; 
French philosopher, "to see an old || 
post pulled up with which I had been 1? 
long acquainted." 

Chinvang the Chaste, ascending the 
throne of China, commanded that all goldsmith. 

who were unjustly detained in prison during the preceding 
reign should be set free. Among the number who came to 
thank their deliverer on this occasion there appeared a majes- 
tic old man, who, falling at the emperor's feet, addressed him 
thus : 

" Great father of China, behold a wretch, now eighty-five 
years old, who was shut up in a dungeon at the age of twenty- 
two. I was imprisoned, though a stranger to crime, and with- 
out being even confronted by my accusers. I have now lived 
in solitude and darkness for more than sixty years, and am 
grown familiar with distress. As yet, dazzled with the splen- 
dor of that sun to which you have restored me, I have been 
wandering here and there to find out some friend that would 
assist or relieve or remember me, but my friends, my family 
and relations are all dead, and I am forgotten. Permit me 
then, O Chinvang, to wear out the wretched remains of life 
in my former prison ; the walls of my dungeon are to me more 
pleasing than the most splendid palace ; I have not long to live, 
and shall be unhappy except I spend the rest of my days 
where my youth was passed — in that prison from whence you 
were pleased to release me." 

The old man's passion for confinement is similar to that we 



284 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

all have for life. We are habituated to the prison, we look 
round with discontent, are displeased with the abode, and yet 
the length of our captivity only increases our fondness for the 
cell. The trees we have planted, the houses we have built, or 
the posterity we have begotten, all serve to bind us closer to 
earth and embitter our parting. Life sues the young like a 
new acquaintance ; the companion, as yet unexhausted, is at 
once instructive and amusing, its company pleases, yet for all 
this it is but little regarded. To us who are declined in years 
life appears like an old friend ; its jests have been anticipated 
in former conversations, it has no new story to make us smile, 
no new improvement with which to surprise, yet still we love 
it ; destitute of every enjoyment, still we love it — husband the 
wasting treasure with increasing frugality, and feel all the 
poignancy of anguish in the fatal separation. 

Oliver Goldsmith, 1728-1774. 



144,— COUNT CANDESPINA'S STANDARD. 

Now one by one the wearied knights had fallen or basely flown, 

And on the mound where his post was fixed O-le'a stood alone. 
" Yield up the banner, gallant knight, thy lord lies on the plain ; 

Thy duty has been nobly done ; I would not see thee slain." 
" Spare pity, king of Aragon ; I would not hear thee lie ; 

My lord is looking down from heaven to see his standard fly." 

" Yield, madman, yield ! thy horse is down, thou hast nor lance nor 
shield ; 
Fly ! I will grant thee time." " This flag can neither fly nor yield." 
They girt the standard round about, a wall of flashing steel ; 
But still they heard the battle-cry, " Olea for Castile ! " 
And there, against all Aragon, full armed with lance and brand, 
Olea fought until the sword snapped in his sturdy hand. 

Among the foe, with that high scorn that laughs at earthly fears, 
He hurled the broken hilt, and drew his dagger on the spears. 
They hewed the hauberk from his breast, the helmet from his head ; 
They hewed the hands from off his limbs, from every vein he bled. 
Clasping the standard to his heart, he raised one dying peal 
That rang as if a trumpet blew — "Olea for Castile!" 

George H. Boker. 



SPEECH OF SERGEANT BUZFUZ. 285 

145.— SPEECH OF SERGEANT BUZFUZ. 

You heard from my learned friend, gentlemen of the jury, 
that this is an action for a breach of promise of marriage, in 
which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred pounds. The 
plaintiff, gentlemen, is a widow — yes, gentlemen, a widow. The 
late Mr. Bardell some time before his death became the father, 
gentlemen, of a little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge 
of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrank from the 
world and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell 
street, and here she placed in her front-parlor window a writ- 
ten placard bearing this inscription : " Apartments furnished 
for a single gentleman. Inquire within." 

Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were 
derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities 
of her lost husband. She had no fear — she had no distrust ; 
all was confidence and reliance. " Mr. Bardell," said the 
widow, " was a man of honor — Mr. Bardell was a man of his 
word — Mr. Bardell was no deceiver — Mr. Bardell was once a 
single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for pro- 
tection, for assistance, for comfort and consolation ; in single 
gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of 
what Mr. Bardell was when he first won my young and untried 
affections ; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be 
let." - 

Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among 
the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the 
lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first 
floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom and 
put the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain there 
long? No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was 
laid, the mine was preparing, the sapper and miner was at 
work ! Before the bill had been in the parlor window three 
days — three days, gentlemen — a being, erect upon two legs 
and bearing all the outward semblance of a man and not of 
a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He 
inquired within ; he took the lodgings, and on the very next 



286 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

day lie entered into possession of them. This man was Pick- 
wick — Pickwick, the defendant ! 

Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but few 
attractions ; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, 
gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolt- 
ing heartlessness and of systematic villainy. I say systematic 
villainy, gentlemen ; and when I say systematic villainy, let 
me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in court, as I am in- 
formed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, 
more becoming, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, 
further, that a counsel in the discharge of his duty is neither 
to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down, and that any, 
attempt to do either the one or the other will recoil on the 
head of the attempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant, 
be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or 
Brown, or Thompson. 

I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick 
continued to reside constantly and without interruption or in- 
termission at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that 
Mrs. Bardell during the whole of that time waited on him, 
attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen 
for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired and 
prepared it for wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed 
his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that on 
many occasions he gave halfpence, and on some occasions even 
sixpence, to her little boy. I shall prove to you that on one 
occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and 
in terms offered her marriage, previously, however, taking 
special care that there should be no witnesses to their solemn 
contract ; and I am in a situation to prove to you, on the tes- 
timony of three of his own friends — most unwilling witnesses, 
gentlemen, most unwilling witnesses — that on that morning 
he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms 
and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments. 

And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters 
have passed between these parties — letters that must be viewed 
with a cautious and suspicious eye — letters that were evidently 



SPEECH OF SERGEANT SUZFUZ. 287 

intended at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any 
third parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read 
the first : " Garraway's, twelve o'clock — Dear Mrs. B. : Chops 
and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does 
this mean? Chops and tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick! 
Chops! Gracious Heavens ! And tomato sauce ! Gentlemen, 
is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled 
away by such shallow artifices as these ? 

The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious : 
"Dear Mrs. B. : I shall not be at home to-morrow. Slow 
coach." And then follows this very remarkable expression : 
" Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan." The warm- 
ing-pan ! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about 
a warming-pan ? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly en- 
treated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, 
unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for 
hidden fire — a mere substitute for some endearing word or 
promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, 
artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated 
desertion? And what does this allusion to the slow coach 
mean ? For aught I know, it may be a reference to Pickwick 
himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally slow 
coach during the whole of this transaction, but whose speed 
will now be very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, 
gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will very soon be greased 
by you. 

But enough of this, gentlemen. It is difficult to smile with 
an aching heart. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined, 
and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation is gone 
indeed. The bill is down, but there is no tenant ! Eligible 
single gentlemen pass and repass, but there is no invitation 
for them to inquire within or without ! All is gloom and si- 
lence in the house ; even the voice of the child is hushed : his 
infant sports are disregarded when his mother weeps. 

But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer 
of this domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell street — Pickwick, 
who has choked up the well and thrown ashes on the sward — 



288 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heartless 
tomato sauce and warming-pans, — Pickwick still rears his head 
with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the 
ruin he has made ! Damages, gentlemen, heavy damages, is 
the only punishment with which you can visit him — the only 
recompense you can award to my client ! And for those dam- 
ages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a right- 
feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathizing, a con- 
templative jury of her civilized countrymen ! 

Charles Dickens. 



146.— LINES FROM GRAY'S ELEGY 

IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 

Can storied urn or ani- 
mated bust 
Back to its mansion call 
the fleeting breath ? 
| Can Honor's voice pro- 
I; voke the silent dust, 

Or Flattery soothe the 
1 dull, cold ear of death ? 

|| Perhaps in this neglected 
spot is laid 
Some heart once preg- 
nant with celestial fire, 
Hands that the rod of em- 
pire might have swayed, 
Or waked to ecstasy the 
living lyre. 

THOMAS GRAY. 




But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 

Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 



LINES FROM GRAY'S ELEGY. 289 

Full many a gem of purest ray sereue 

The dark, unfatliomed caves of ocean bear ; 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 

And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast 

The little tyrant of his fields withstood — 
Some mute, inglorious Milton — here may rest ; 

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 

The applause of listening senates to command, 

The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 

And read their history in a nation's eyes, 
Their lot forbade ; nor circumscribed alone 

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; 
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 

And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; 
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 

To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 
Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 

With incense kindled at the Muse's flame ! 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 

Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; 
Along the cool, sequestered vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 
Yet even these bones from insult to protect 

Some frail memorial, still erected nigh, 
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 
Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
And many a holy text around she strews, 

To teach the rustic moralist to die. 

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, 

25 T 



290 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 

Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

Thomas Gray, 1716-1771. 



147.— ROBESPIERRE'S LAST SPEECH* 

The enemies of the republic call me tyrant ! Were I such, 
they would grovel at my feet. I should gorge them with gold, 
I should grant them impunity for their crimes, and they would 
be grateful ! Were I such, the kings we have vanquished, far 
from denouncing Robespierre, would lend him their guilty 
support. There would be a covenant between them and me. 
Tyranny must have tools. 

But the enemies of tyranny, whither does their path tend ? 
To the tomb and to immortality ! What tyrant is my pro- 
tector ? To what faction do I belong ? Yourselves ! What 
faction, since the beginning of the revolution, has crushed and 
annihilated so many detected traitors ? You, the people, our 
principles, are that faction — a faction to which I am devoted, 
and against which all the scoundrelism of the day is banded ! 

The confirmation of the republic has been my object, and 
I know that the republic can be established only on the 
eternal basis of morality. Against me and against those who 
hold kindred principles the league is formed. My life ? Oh, 
my life I abandon without a regret ! I have seen the Past, 

AND I FORESEE THE FUTURE ! 

What friend of his country would wish to survive the 

moment he could no longer serve it — when he could no 

longer defend innocence against oppression ? Wherefore should 

I continue in an order of things where intrigue eternally tri- 

* This translation was originally made for Sargent's Standard Speaker. 



ROBESPIERRE'S LAST SPEECH. 291 

umphs over truth, where justice is mocked, where passions the 
most abject or fears the most absurd override the sacred 
interests of humanity? How support the misery of seeing 
traitors to the cause of human rights conceal their hideous 
souls under the veil of virtue, of patriotism, of philanthropy ? 

In witnessing the multitude of vices which the torrent of the 
revolution has rolled in turbid communion with its civic virtues, 
I confess that I have sometimes feared that I should be sullied 
in the eyes of posterity by the impure neighborhood of unprin- 
cipled men who had thrust themselves into association with 
the sincere friends of humanity, and I rejoice that these con- 
spirators against my country have now, by their reckless rage, 
traced deep the line of demarkation between themselves and 
all true men. 

Question history, and learn how all the defenders of liberty, 
in all times, have been overwhelmed by calumny. But their 
traducers died also. The good and the bad disappear alike 
from the earth, but in very different conditions. 

O Frenchmen! O my countrymen! Let not your ene- 
mies, with their desolating doctrines, degrade your souls and 
enervate your virtues ! No, Chauniette,* no ! Death is not 
" an eternal sleep " ! Citizens, efface from the tomb that 
motto graven by sacrilegious hands, which spreads over all 
nature a funeral crape, takes from oppressed innocence its sup- 
port, and affronts the beneficent dispensation of death ! In- 
scribe rather thereon these words : " Death is the commence- 
ment of immortality ! " I leave to the oppressors of the people 
a terrible testament, which I proclaim with the independence 
befitting one whose career is so nearly ended ; it is the awful 
truth,—" Thou shalt die ! " f 

Maximilian Robespierre, 1759-1794. 

* Chauniette was a member of the Convention who was opposed to the 
public recognition, advocated by Robespierre, of God and a future state. 

fThe day after this speech— delivered July 28, 1794, and addressed to an 
assembly bent on his destruction— Robespierre was executed at the early 
age of thirty-five, under circumstances of accumulated horror. His fate 
is a warning to rulers who would cement even the best of governments 
with blood. Robespierre's character is still an enigma, some regarding 
him as an honest fanatic and others as a crafty demagogue. 



292 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




JOHN JAY 



148.— AGAINST SUBMISSION TO BRITISH RULE. 

You may be told that your forts have been taken, your 
country ravaged, and that your armies have retreated; and 
that, therefore, God is not with you. It is true that some forts 

have been taken, that our 
country is ravaged, and that 
our Maker is displeased with 
us; but it is also true that 
the King of heaven is not, 
like the king of Britain, im- 
placable. If we turn from 
our sins, He will turn from 
his anger. 

Let a general reformation 
of manners take place; let 
universal charity, public spirit 
and private virtue be incul- 
cated, encouraged and prac- 
ticed ; unite in preparing for a vigorous defense of your coun- 
try, as if all depended on your own exertions ; and when you 
have done all these things, then rely upon the good Providence 
of God for success, in the full confidence that without his bless- 
ing all our efforts will inevitably fail. 

Cease, then, to desire the flesh-pots of Egypt, and remember 
her taskmasters and her oppression. No longer hesitate about 
rejecting all dependence on a king who would rule you with a 
rod of iron. Freedom is now in your power; value the 
heavenly gift. Eemember that if you dare to neglect or 
despise it you offer an insult to the divine Bestower. Do not 
despair of keeping it. 

After the armies of Eome had been repeatedly defeated by 
Hannibal, that imperial city was besieged by this brave and 
experienced general at the head of a numerous and victorious 
army. But so far were her glorious citizens from being dis- 
mayed by the loss of so many battles, and of all their country 
— so confident were they in their own virtue and the protection 



VICTORY OR RUIN. 293 



of Heaven — that the very land on which the Carthaginians were 
encamped was sold at public auction for more than the usual 
price ! These heroic citizens disdained to receive the protection 
of the enemy, or to regard his proclamations. They invoked the 
protection of the supreme Being — they defended their city 
with undaunted courage — they repelled the enemy and recov- 
ered their country. 

Blush, then, ye degenerate spirits who give over all for lost 
because your enemies have inarched through three or four 
counties in this and a neighboring State — ye who basely fly 
to have the yoke of slavery fixed on your necks ! Bouse, 
brave citizens ! Do your duty like men. Consider that from 
the earliest ages of the world, religion, liberty and reason have 
been bending their course toward the setting sun. The holy 
gospels are yet to be preached in these western regions. Do 
not believe that the Almighty will suffer slavery and the gos- 
pel to go hand in hand. It cannot, it will not, be ! 

John Jay, 1745-1829. 



149.— VICTORY OR RUIN. 

It is the judgment of the American people that there shall 
be no compromise — that ruin to themselves or ruin to the na- 
tion's foes is the only alternative. It is only by resolutions of 
this kind that nations can rise above great dangers and over- 
come them in crises like this. It was only by turning France 
into a camp — resolved that Europe might exterminate but 
should not subjugate her — that France became the leading 
empire of Europe. 

It is by such a resolve that the American people, coercing a 
reluctant government to draw the sword and stake the national 
existence on the integrity of the republic, are now any- 
thing but the fragments of a nation before the world, 
the scorn and hiss of every petty tyrant. It is because 
the people of the United States, rising to the height of the 
occasion, dedicated this generation to the sword — pouring 



294 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

out the blood of their children as of no account, and avowing 
before high Heaven that there should be no end to this con- 
flict but absolute ruin or absolute triumph — that we now are 
what we are, that the banner of the republic, still pointing 
onward, floats proudly in the face of the enemy. It is only 
by this earnest and abiding resolution that the American peo- 
ple will survive in history. And this will save us. We shall 
succeed, and not fail. 

For I have an abiding confidence in the firmness, the pa- 
tience, the endurance, of the American people ; and having 
vowed to stand in history on the great resolve to accept of 
nothing but victory or ruin, victory is ours. And if with such 
heroic resolve we fall, we fall with honor, and transmit the 
name of liberty, committed to our keeping, untarnished, to go 
down to future generations. 

The historian of our decline and fall, contemplating the 
ruins of the last great republic and drawing from its fate les- 
sons of wisdom on the waywardness of men, shall drop a tear 
as he records with sorrow the vain heroism of that people who 
dedicated and sacrificed themselves to the cause of freedom, 
and by their example will keep alive her worship in the hearts 
of men till happier generations shall learn to walk in her 
paths. 

Yes, sir, if we must fall, let our last hours be stained by no 
weakness ; if we must fall, let us stand amid the crash of the 
falling republic and be buried in its ruins, so that history may 
take note that men lived in the middle of the nineteenth cen- 
tury worthy of a better fate, but chastised by God for the sins 
of their forefathers. Let the ruins of the republic remain to 
testify to the latest generations our greatness and our heroism. 
And let Liberty, crownless and childless, sit upon these ruins, 
crying aloud in a sad wail to the nations of the world, " I 
nursed and brought up children, and they have rebelled against 
me." 

Henry Winter Davis, 1817-1865. 



REGRETS OF DRUNKENNESS. 



295 




SIIAKSPEARE READING BEFORE QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

150.— REG-RETS OF DRUNKENNESS. 

Iago. What ! be you hurt, lieutenant ? 

Cassio. Past all surgery ! 

Iago. Marry, Heaveu forbid ! 

Cassio. Reputation ! reputation ! reputation ! Oh, I have lost 
my reputation ! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and 
what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation ! 

Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received 
some bodily wound ; there is more offense in that than in repu- 
tation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft 
got without merit and lost without deserving. What, man ! 
There are ways to recover the general again. Sue to him, 
and he is yours. 

Cassio. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so 
good a commander with so light, so drunken and so indiscreet 
an officer. Drunk ? and speak parrot ? and squabble ? swag- 
ger? swear? and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? 
O thou invisible spirit of wine ! if thou hast no name to be 
known by, let us call thee Devil. 



296 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

lago. What was lie that you followed with your sword? 
what had he done to you ? 

Cassio. I know not. 

Iago. Is it possible ? 

Cassio. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly — 
a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should put 
an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains ! that we 
should with joy, pleasure, revel, and applause, transform our- 
selves into beasts ! 

Iago. Why, but you are now well enough ; how came you 
thus recovered ? 

Cassio. It has pleased the devil Drunkenness to give place 
to the devil Wrath; one imperfection shows me another t 
make me frankly despise myself. 

Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, 
the place and the condition of this country stands, I could 
heartily wish this had not befallen ; but since it is as it is, mend 
it for your own good. 

Cassio. I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me 
I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such 
an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, 
by and by a fool, and presently a beast ! Oh, strange ! Every 
inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. 

Iago. Come, come ! good wine is a good familiar creature, 
if it be well used ; exclaim no more against it ; and, good lieu- 
tenant, I think you think I love you. 

Cassio. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk ! 

Iago. You or any man living may be drunk some time, 
man ! I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is 
now the general ; confess yourself freely to her ; importune 
her ; she'll help to put you in your place again. She is of so 
free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice 
in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This 
broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to 
splinter ; and my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this 
crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. 

Cassio. You advise me well. 



ON ENGLISH SLAVERY. 297 

Iago. I protest in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. 

Cassio. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I 
will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. 

Iago. You are right. Good-night, lieutenant, I must to 
watch. 

Cassio. Good-night, honest Iago. 

William Shakspeare, 1564-1616. 



151.— ON ENGLISH SLAVERY. 

I trust that at length the time is come when Parliament 
will no longer bear to be told that slave-owners are the best 
law-givers on slavery — no longer suffer our voice to roll across 
the Atlantic in empty warnings and fruitless orders. Tell me 
not of rights ; talk not of the property of the planter in his 
slaves. I deny his right; I acknowledge not the property. 
The principles, the feelings, of our common nature, rise in re- 
bellion against it. Be the appeal made to the understanding 
or to the heart, the sentence that rejects it is the same ! 

In vain you tell me of laws that sanction such a claim. 
There is a law above all the enactments of human codes ; the 
same throughout the world, the same in all times. Such as 
it was, before the daring genius of Columbus pierced the night 
of ages, and opened, to oue world, the sources of power, wealth 
and knowledge, to another, all unutterable woes, such is it at 
this day : it is the law written by the finger of God on the 
heart of man ; and by that law, unchangeable and eternal, 
while men despise fraud, and loathe rapine, and hate blood, 
they shall reject with indignation the wild and guilty fantasy, 
that man can hold property in man ! 

In vain you appeal to treaties — to covenants between na- 
tions. The covenants of the Almighty, whether the old cov- 
enant or the new, denounce such unholy pretensions. To these 
laws did they of old refer who maintained the African trade. 
Such treaties did they cite, and not untruly ; for by one 
shameful compact you bartered the glories of Blenheim for 



298 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



the traffic in blood. Yet, in despite of law and of treaty, that 
infernal traffic is now destroyed, and its votaries put to death 
like other pirates. 

How came this change to pass ? Not assuredly by Parlia- 
ment leading the way, but the country at length awoke ; the 
indignation of the people was kindled ; it descended in thun- 
der, and smote the traffic, and scattered its guilty profits to 
the winds. Now, then, let the planters beware ; let their as- 
semblies beware ; let the government at home beware ; let the 
Parliament beware ! 

The same country is once more awake — awake to the condi- 
tion of negro slavery; the same indignation kindles in the 
bosom of the same people ; the same cloud is gathering that 
annihilated the slave-trade ; and if it shall descend again, they 
on whom its crash may fall will not be destroyed before I have 
warned them ; but I pray that their destruction may turn away 
from us the more terrible judgment of God ! 

Lord Brougham, 1779-1868. 



152.— THE ACT OF HABEAS CORPUS. 

In the act of habeas 
corpus we have a sol- 
emn legislative decla- 
ration "that it is in- 
compatible with liber- 
ty to send any subject 
out of the realm under 
pretense of any crime 
supposed or alleged to 
be committed in a for- 
eign jurisdiction, ex- 
cept that crime be cap- 
ital." Such were the 
bulwarks which our ancestors placed about the sacred temple of 
liberty, such the ramparts by which they sought to bar out the 




THE ACT OF HABEAS CORPUS. 299 

ever-toiling ocean of an arbitrary power, and thought (generous 
credulity!) that they had barred it out from their posterity for 
ever. Little did they foresee the future race of vermin that would 
work their way through those mounds and let back the inundation. 

The Habeas Corpus Act declares the transmission of all per- 
sons to be illegal, except only persons charged with capital 
crimes. But to support the construction that takes in all pos- 
sible offenses of all possible degrees, you have been told, and 
upon the grave authority of notable cases, that the enacting 
part of a statute may go beyond its preamble. Can you, my 
lords, bring your minds easily to believe that such a tissue of 
despotism and folly could have been the sober and deliberate 
intention of the legislature? 

I am not ignorant that this extraordinary construction has 
received the sanction of another court, nor of the surprise and 
dismay with which it smote upon the general heart of the 
bar. I am aware that I may have the mortification of being 
told in another country of that unhappy decision, and I foresee 
in what confusion I shall hang down my head when I am 
told it. 

But I cherish, too, the consolatory hope that I shall be able 
to tell them that I had an old and learned friend whom I 
would put above all the sweepings of their hall, who was of 
a different opinion ; who had derived his ideas of civil liberty 
from the purest fountains of Athens and of Rome ; who had 
fed the youthful vigor of his studious mind with the theoretic 
knowledge of their wisest philosophers and statesmen; and 
who had refined that theory into the quick and exquisite sen- 
sibility of moral instinct by contemplating the practice of 
their most illustrious examples ; by dwelling on the sweet- 
souled piety of Cimon, on the anticipated Christianity of Soc- 
rates, on the gallant and pathetic patriotism of Epaminondas, 
on that pure austerity of Fabricius, whom to move from his 
integrity would have been more difficult than to have pushed 
the sun from his course. 

I would add that if he had seemed to hesitate, it was but 
for a moment — that his hesitation was like the passing cloud 



300 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

that floats across the morning sun and hides it from view, and 
does so for a moment hide it by involving the spectator with- 
out even approaching the face of the luminary. And this 
soothing hope I draw from the dearest and tenderest recol- 
lections of my life ; from the remembrance of those Attic nights 
and those refections of the gods which we have partaken with 
those admired and respected and beloved companions who 
have gone before us — over whose ashes the most precious tears 
of Ireland have been shed.* 

Yes, my good lord, I see you do not forget them ; I see 
their sacred forms passing in sad review before your memory ; 
I see your pained and softened fancy recalling those happy 
meetings, where the innocent enjoyment of social mirth be- 
came expanded into the nobler warmth of social virtue, and 
the horizon of the board became enlarged into the horizon of 
man ; where the swelling heart conceived and communicated 
the pure and generous purpose; where my slenderer and 
younger taper imbibed its borrowed light from the more ma- 
tured and redundant fountain of yours. Yes, my lord, we can 
remember those nights without any other regret than that they 
can nevermore return ; for 

" We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine ; 
But search of deep philosophy, 
Wit, eloquence and poesy — 
Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine." 

John Philpot Curran, 1750-1817. 

* Here, accoi'ding to the original report, Lord Avonraore (who sat upon 
the bench, and who was " the old and learned friend " to whom Curran 
was alluding) could not refrain from tears. In the midst of Curran's 
legal argument, "this most beautiful episode," says Charles Phillips 
" bloomed like a green spot amid the desert. Mr. Curran told me him- 
self that when the court rose, the tipstaff informed him he was wanted 
immediately in chamber by one of the judges of the Exchequer. He, of 
course, obeyed the judicial mandate; and the moment he entered, poor 
Lord Avonmore, whose cheeks were still wet with the tears extorted by 
this heart-touching appeal, clasped him to his bosom." A coolness 
caused by political differences which had for some time existed be- 
tween them gave place to a renewal of friendship, which was not again 
interrupted. Curran was wont to say that he inherited from his father 
a homely face and small figure, while from his mother he inherited 
his intellect. Curran excelled in pathos, as the extract we have quoted 
shows. 



THE VILLAGE PREACHER. 



301 









« 







153.— THE VILLAGE PREACHER. 

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
And still where many a garden flower grows wild, 
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 
A man he was to all the country dear, 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year. 

26 



302 OXFORD 'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 

Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place ; 

Unskillful he to fawn or seek for power 

By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ! 

Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 

More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. 

His house was known to all the vagrant train ; 

He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain. 

The long remembered beggar was his guest, 

Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 

The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, 

Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; 

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 

Sat by his fire, and talked the night away ;" 

Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, 

Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. 

Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, 

And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 

Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 

His pity gave ere charity began. 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 
And even his failings leaned to virtue's side ; 
But in his duty prompt in every call, 
He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all. 
And as a bird each fond endearment tries, 
To tempt her new-fledged offspring to the skies, 
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt and pain by turns dismayed, 
The reverend champion stood. At his control 
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ! 
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 
And his last faltering accents whispered praise. 



TAXES THE PRICE OF GLORY. 303 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 

His looks adorned the venerable place ; 

Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, 

And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. 

The service past, around the pious man, 

With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 

Even children followed with endearing wile, 

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. 

His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed, 

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ; 

To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, 

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 

Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

Oliver Goldsmith (see p. 283). 



154.— TAXES THE PRICE OF GLORY. 

John Bull can inform Jonathan what are the inevitable 
consequences of being too fond of glory — taxes. Taxes upon 
every article which enters into the mouth, or covers the back, 
or is placed under the foot ; taxes upon everything which it is 
pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell or taste ; taxes upon warmth, 
light and locomotion ; taxes on everything on earth and the 
waters under the earth ; on everything that comes from abroad 
or is grown at home; taxes on the raw material; taxes on 
every fresh value that is added to it by the industry of man ; 
taxes on the sauce which pampers man's appetite, and the 
drug that restores him to health ; on the ermine which deco- 
rates the judge and the rope that hangs the criminal ; on the 
poor man's salt and the rich man's spice ; on the brass nails 
of the coffin and the ribbons of the bride ; — at bed or board, 
couchant or levant, we must pay. 

The schoolboy whips his taxed top; the beardless youth 



304 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

manages his taxed horse with a taxed bridle on a taxed 
road ; and the dying Englishman, pouring his medicine, which 
has paid seven per cent., into a spoon that has paid fifteen per 
cent., flings himself back upon his chintz bed, which has paid 
twenty-two per cent., makes his will on an eight-pound stamp, 
and expires in the arms of an apothecary, who has paid a 
license of a hundred pounds for the privilege of putting him 
to death. His whole property is then immediately taxed 
from two to ten per cent. Besides the probate, large fees are 
demanded for burying him in the chancel ; his virtues are 
handed down to posterity on taxed marble ; and he is then 
gathered to his fathers — to be taxed no more. 

In addition to all this, the habit of dealing with large sums 
will make the government avaricious and profuse ; and the 
system itself will infallibly generate the base vermin of spies 
and informers, and a still more pestilential race of political 
tools and retainers of the meanest and most odious description ; 
while the prodigious patronage which the collecting of this 
splendid revenue will throw into the hands of government will 
invest it with so vast an influence, and hold out such means 
and temptations to corruption, as all the virtue and public 
spirit, even of republicans, will be unable to resist. Every 
wise Jonathan should remember this. 

Sydney Smith, 1768-1845. 



155.— INVOCATION. 

Answer me, burning stars of night ! where is the spirit gone 
That past the reach of human sight as a swift breeze hath flown? 
And the stars answered me, " We roll in light and power on high ; 
But of the never-dying soul, ask that which cannot die." 

O many-toned and chainless wind ! thou art a wanderer free ! 
Tell me if thou its place canst find, far over mount and sea ? 
And the wind murmured in reply, " The blue deep I have crossed, 
And met its barks and billows high, but not what thou hast lost." 

Ye clouds thai gorgeously repose around the setting sun, 
Answer ! have ye a home for those whose earthly race is run ? 



THE AMERICAN WAR DENOUNCED. 



305 



The bright clouds answered, "We depart, we vanish from the sky ; 
Ask what is deathless in thy heart, for that which cannot die." 

Speak, then, thou voice of God within, thou of the deep, low tone! 
Answer me through life's restless din, where is the spirit flown ? 
And the voice answered, " Be thou still ! Enough to know is given ; 
Clouds, winds and stars, their part fulfill, thine is to trust in Heaven." 

Felicia Hemans. 




THii: HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1781. 

156.— THE AMERICAN WAR DENOUNCED, 1781. 

Gentlemen have passed the highest eulogiums on the 
American war. Its justice has been defended in the most 
fervent manner. A noble lord in the heat of his zeal has 
called it a holy war. For my part, although the honorable 
gentleman who made this motion, and some other gentlemen, 
have been more than once in the course of the debate severely 
reprehended for calling it a wicked and accursed w r ar, I am 
persuaded and would affirm that it was a most accursed, 
2fi * 



306 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, unjust and diabolical 
war! 

It was conceived in injustice ; it was nurtured and brought 
forth in folly ; its footsteps were marked with blood, slaughter, 
persecution and devastation — in truth, everything which went 
to constitute moral depravity and human turpitude was to be 
found in it. It was pregnaDt with misery of every kind. 

The mischief, however, recoiled on the unhappy people of 
this country, who were made the instruments by which the 
wicked purposes of the authors of the war were effected. The 
nation was drained of its best blood, and of its vital resources 
of men and money. The expense of the war was enormous — 
much beyond any former experience. 

And yet what has the British nation received in return? 
Nothing but a series of ineffective victories or severe defeats — 
victories celebrated only by a temporary triumph over our 
brethren, whom we would trample down and destroy ; victories 
which filled the land with mourning for the loss of dear and 
valued relatives slain in the impious cause of enforcing uncon- 
ditional submission, or victories attended with narratives of 
the glorious exertions of men struggling in the holy cause of 
liberty, though struggling in the absence of all the facilities 
and advantages which are in general deemed the necessary 
concomitants of victory and success. 

Where was the Englishman who, on reading the narrative 
of those bloody and well-fought contests, could refrain from 
lamenting the loss of so much British blood spilt in such a 
cause, or from weeping, on whatever side victory might be 
declared ? 

William Pitt, 1759-1806.* 

* Second son of Lord Chatham, he became a member of the House of 
Commons in 1781, when in his twenty-second year. Burke said of him, 
" He is not. merely a chip of the old block, but he is the old block itself." 
At the age of twenty-four Pitt became prime minister of England and 
virtual leader of the House of Commons. The subjoined remarks were 
made in reference to a resolution declaring that immediate measures 
ought to be taken for concluding peace with the American Colonies. 



ON ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM. 307 

157.— ON ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM, 1855. 

I come now to a third objection to Administrative Reform — ■ 
an objection common among young gentlemen who are not 
particularly fit for anything but spending money which they 
have not got. It is usually comprised in the observation, 
" How very extraordinary it is that these Administrative Re- 
form fellows can't mind their own business !" 

I think it will occur to all that a very sufficient mode of 
disposing of this objection is to say that it is our own business 
we mind when we come forward in this way, and it is to pre- 
vent it from being mismanaged by them. 

There is an old story and a true one, which has a pointed 
moral at the end of it. Ages ago a barbarous mode of keep- 
ing accounts on notched sticks was introduced into the Court 
of Exchequer, and the accounts were kept much as Robinson 
Crusoe kept his calendar on the desert island. In the course 
of considerable revolutions of time, the celebrated Cocker* was 
born and died; Walkingame, of "The Tutor's Assistant," 
and well versed in figures, was also born and died ; a multi- 
tude of accountants, bookkeepers and actuaries were born and 
died. Still official routine inclined to these notched sticks, as 
if they were pillars of the constitution, and still the Exchequer 
accounts continued to be kept on certain splints of elm wood 
called " tallies." 

In the reign of George III. an inquiry was made by some 
revolutionary spirit, whether, pens, ink and paper, slates and 
pencils, being in existence, this obstinate adherence to an ob- 
solete custom ought to be continued, and whether a change 
ought not to be effected. 

All the red tape in the country grew redder at the bare 
mention of this bold and original conception, and it took till 
1826 to get these sticks abolished. In 1834 it was found that 
there was a considerable accumulation of them, and the ques- 
tion then was, What was to be done with such worn-out, 
worm-eaten, rotten old bits of wood ? I dare say there was a 

* Author of Cocker's Arithmetic. 



308 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

vast amount of memoranduming and despatch-boxing on this 
mighty subject. The sticks were housed at Westminster, and 
it would naturally occur to any intelligent person that nothing 
could be easier than to allow them to be carried away for fire- 
wood by the miserable people who live in the neighborhood. 

However, the sticks never had been useful, and official routine 
required that they never should be ; and so the order went forth 
that they were to be privately and confidentially burned. It 
came to pass that they were burned in a stove in the House of 
Lords. The stove, over-gorged with these preposterous sticks, 
set fire to the paneling ; the paneling set fire to the House of 
Lords ; the House of Lords set fire to the House of Commons ; 
the two houses were reduced to ashes. Architects were called 
in to build others ; we are now in the second million of the 
cost thereof. The national pig is not nearly over the stile yet ; 
and the little old woman, Britannia, hasn't yet got home. 

Said the noble lord at the head of the government when 
Mr. Layard asked him for a day for his motion, "Let the 
honorable gentleman find a day for himself." 

" Now, in the name of all the gods at once, 
Upon what meat doth this our Csesar feed, 
That he is grown so great ? " 

If our Csesar will excuse me, I would take the liberty of 
reversing that cool and lofty sentiment, and I would say, 
" First lord, your duty is to see that no man is left to find a 
day for himself. See you, who take the responsibility of gov- 
ernment, who aspire to it, live for it, intrigue for it, scramble 
for it, who hold to it tooth and nail when you can get it, see 
that no man is left to find a day for himself. Woe the day 
when the dangerous man shall have a day for himself, because 
the head of the government failed in his duty in not anticipat- 
ing it by a brighter and a better one ! " 

Name you the day, first lord ; make a day ; work for a day 
beyond your little time, Lord Palmerston, and history in return 
may then — not otherwise — find a day for you. 

Charles Dickens (see p. 250.) 



ON BURGOYNE'S SURRENDER. 



309 



You have ransacked every corner 



158.— ON BURGOYNE'S SURRENDER, 1777. 

To what, my lords, shall we attribute these disasters to our 
arms? To what but want of wisdom in our council, want of 
ability in our ministers ? 
of Lower Sax- 
ony for mercen- 
aries; but forty 
thousand Hes- 
sian boors can 
never conquer 
ten times the 
number of Amer- 
ican freemen. 
You have search- >! 

ed the darkest 
wilds of Amer- 
ica for the scalp- 
ing-knife ; but all 
your attempts to 
draw strength 
from the inhu- 
man alliance 
have proved as 
abortive as they are wicked, 
conquer — it is impossible — you cannot conquer — the Amer- 
icans. You talk of your numerous friends among them, who 
will annihilate the Congress, and of your powerful forces who 
will disperse their army ; I might as well talk of driving them 
before me with this crutch. 

That America is lost to us, even the accounts published by 
administration seem to admit. General Washington has 
proved himself three times an abler general than Sir William 
Howe ; for with a force much inferior in number, and infinite- 
ly inferior in every other respect, as asserted from an authority 
not to be questioned, he has been able to baffle every attempt 
of ours, and left us in such a situation that, if not assisted by 




LORD CHATHAM. 



You may ravage — you cannot 



310 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

our fleet, our troops in the neighborhood of Philadelphia must 
probably share the same unhappy fate with those under Gen- 
eral Burgoyne. 

Do we ever consider what we owe to America ? Since our 
last war, what has occasioned the rise in the value of English 
estates ? America — that colony which, I now fear, we have 
for ever lost. She has been the great support of this country ; 
has multiplied our resources; has supplied us with soldiers 
and sailors; has given our manufacturers employment, and 
opened new markets to our merchants. 

And for what have we sacrificed all these advantages ? The 
pursuit of a peppercorn ! * And how have we treated Amer- 
ica? Let her petitions rejected, her complaints unanswered, 
her dutiful representations treated with contempt, be the reply. 
Let our endeavors to establish despotism on the ruins of con- 
stitutional liberty, our measures to enforce taxation at the 
point of the sword, show what we have done ! Ministers have 
betrayed us into disastrous war, and what are the fruits ? Let 
the catastrophe that has overwhelmed Burgoyne proclaim! 

The men you called cowards, poltroons, runaways and 
knaves are become victorious over your veteran troops ! And 
in the midst of victory, and in the flush of conquest, these men 
have set ministers an example of moderation and magnanim- 
ity. Yes, my lords, to the very troops sent out to execute the 
diabolical orders for the employment of savages, the Amer- 
icans have granted terms of capitulation due only to the 
makers of fair and honorable war. Such is American progress 
in civilization. And let me tell you the day is not far distant 
when America will vie with these kingdoms, not only in arms, 
but in arts. 

Oh, but if America is not to be conquered, she is to be 
treated with ! Conciliation is at length thought of! Terms 
are to be offered ! Aud who are the persons that are to treat 
on the part of England ? Why, the very men who have been 
the authors of our misfortunes ! The very men who have en- 

* Mr. Nugent had said that a peppercorn in acknowledgment of the 
right to tax America was of more value than millions without it. 



THE SOUL OF ELOQUENCE. 311 

deavored, by the most pernicious policy, to enslave the Amer- 
ican people ! They would be the mediators to conciliate those 
who have survived the Indian tomahawk and the Hessian 
bayonet ! Can your lordships entertain the most distant pros- 
pect of success from the efforts of negotiators like these ? No ! 
The Americans have virtue, and must detest the principles of 
such men. 

Lord Chatham (see p. 49). 



159.— THE SOUL OF ELOQUENCE. 

How shall we learn to sway the minds of men 
By eloquence ? to rule them, to persuade ? 
Do you seek genuine and worthy fame? 
Keason and honest feeling want no arts 
Of utterance, ask no toil of elocution ! 

And when you speak in earnest, do you need 

A search for words ? Oh, these fine holiday phrases, 

In which you robe your worn-out commonplaces, 

These scraps of paper which you crimp and curl 

And twist into a thousand idle shapes, 

These filigree ornaments, are good for nothing ! 

Cost time and pains, please few, impose on no one ; 

Are unrefreshing as the wind that whistles 

In autumn 'mong the dry and wrinkled leaves. 

If feeling does not prompt, in vain you strive. 

If from the soul the language does not come, 

By its own impulse, to impel the hearts 

Of hearers with communicated power, 

In vain you strive, in vain you study earnestly, 

Toil on for ever, piece together fragments, 

Cook up your broken scraps of sentences, 

And blow, with puffing breath, a struggling light, 

Glimmering confusedly now, now cold in ashes — 

Startle the schoolboys with your metaphors — 



312 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



And, if such food may suit your appetite, 
Win the vain wonder of applauding children ! 

But never hope to stir the hearts of men, 

And mould the souls of many into one, 

By words which come not native from the heart. 

Goethe {translated by John Anster). 



160.— A REPUBLIC OR A MONARCHY? 

On the question of revising the French Constitution, 1851. 

Gentlemen, let us come at the pith of this debate. It is 
not our side of the House, but you, the monarchists, who have 
provoked it. The question, a republic or a monarchy, is be- 
fore us. No one 
has any longer 
the power or the 
right to elude it. 
For more than 
two years this 
question, secretly 
and audaciously 
agitated, has har- 
assed the coun- 
try. It weighs 
upon the Present. 
It clouds the Fu- 
ture. The mo- 
ment has come 
for our deliver- 
ance from it. Yes, 
the moment has 
come for us to regard it face to face — to see what it is made 
of. Now, then, let us show our cards! No more conceal- 
ment! 

I affirm, then, in the name of the eternal laws of human 
morality, that monarchy is an historical fact and nothing more. 




VICTOR HUGO. 



A REPUBLIC OR A MONARCHY. 313 

Now, when the fact is extinct, nothing survives, and all is 
told. It is otherwise with right. Right, even when it no 
longer has fact to sustain it, even when it no longer exerts a 
material authority, preserves still its moral authority, and is 
always right. Hence is it that in an overthrown republic there 
remains a right, while in a fallen monarchy there remains only 
a ruin. 

Cease, then, ye legitimists, to appeal to us from a position of 
right ! Before the right of the people, which is sovereignty, 
there is no other right but the right of the individual, which 
is liberty. Beyond that all is a chimera. To talk of the 
kingly right in this great age of ours, and at this great tribune, 
is to pronounce a word void of meaning. 

But if you cannot speak in the name of right, will you 
speak in the name of fact ? Will you say that political stabil- 
ity is the offspring of hereditary royalty, and that royalty is 
better than democracy for a state ? What ! You would have 
those scenes renewed, those experiences recommenced, which 
overwhelmed kings and princes — the feeble, like Louis the 
Sixteenth; the able and strong, like Louis Philippe; whole 
families of royal lineage, high-born women, saintly widows, inno- 
cent children! And of those lamentable experiences you 
have not had enough ? You would have yet more ? 

But you are without pity, royalists, or without memory! 
We ask your mercy on these unfortunate royal families. 
Good Heavens ! These streets which you traverse daily on 
your way to this House — they, then, teach you nothing — 
when, if you but stamped on the pavement two paces from 
those deadly Tuileries, which you covet still — but stamped on 
that fatal pavement — you could conjure up at will the scaffold 
from which the old monarchy was plunged into the tomb, or 
the cab in which the new royalty escaped into exile. 

Ah, men of ancient parties ! you will learn ere long that at 
this present time — in this nineteenth century — after the scaf- 
fold of Louis the Sixteenth, after the downfall of Napoleon, 
after the exile of Charles the Tenth, after the flight of Louis 
Philippe, after the French Revolution in a word — that is to 
27 



314 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



say, after this renewal, complete, absolute, prodigious, of prin- 
ciples, convictions, opinions, situations, influences and facts — it 
is the republic which is solid ground, and the monarchy which 
is the perilous quicksand. 

Victor Hugo (original translation from the French). 



161— REPLY TO MR. FLOOD, 1783. 

It is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame me. 
I maintain my reputation in public and in private life. No 
man who has not a bad character can ever say that I deceived. 

No country can call me 
a cheat. But I will 
suppose such a public 
character. I will sup- 
pose such a man to have 
existence. I will begin 
with his character in his 
political cradle, and I 
will follow him to the 
last stage of political 
dissolution. 

I will suppose him, in 

GBATTAN. t h e fi rgt gta g e Q f ^jg 

life, to have been intemperate ; in the second, to have been 
corrupt ; and in the last, seditious ; that after an envenomed 
attack on the persons and measures of a succession of vice- 
roys, and after much declamation against their illegalities and 
their profusion, he took office and became a supporter of gov- 
ernment, when the profusion of ministers had greatly increased 
and their crimes multiplied beyond example. 

With regard to the liberties of America, which were insep- 
arable from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have been 
an enemy decided and unreserved ; that he voted against her 
liberty, and voted, moreover, for an address to send four 
thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans ; that 




REPLY TO MR. FLOOD. 315 

he called these butchers " armed negotiators," and stood with a 
metaphor in his mouth and a bribe in his pocket, a champion 
against the rights of America — of America, the only hope of 
Ireland and the only refuge of the liberties of mankind. 

Thus defective in every relationship, whether to constitution, 
commerce, or toleration, I will suppose this man to have 
added much private improbity to public crimes; that his 
probity was like his patriotism, and his honor on a level with 
his oath. He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will 
interrupt him, and say : 

Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your talents 
have been as great as your life has been reprehensible. You 
began your parliamentary career with an acrimony and per- 
sonality which could have been justified only by a supposition 
of virtue ; after a rank and clamorous opposition you became, 
on a sudden, silent ; you were silent for seven years ; you were 
silent on the greatest questions, and you were silent — for 
money ! 

You supported the unparalleled profusion and jobbing of 
Lord Harcourt's scandalous ministry. You, sir, who manu- 
facture stage-thunder against Mr. Eden for his anti- American 
principles, you, sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the 
immortal Hampden, you, sir, approved of the tyranny exer- 
cised against America, and you, sir, voted four thousand Irish 
troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting for their 
freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great prin- 
ciple, liberty ! 

But you found at last that the court had bought but would 
not trust you. Mortified at the discovery, you try the sorry 
game of a trimmer in your progress to the acts of an incen- 
diary ; and observing with regard to prince and people the 
most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the suspi- 
cion of your sovereign by betraying the government, as you 
had sold the people. Such has been your conduct, and at 
such conduct every order of your fellow-subjects have a right 
to exclaim ! The merchant may say to you, the constitution- 
alist may say to you, the American may say to you, and I, 



316 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



I now say, and say it to your beard, Sir, you are not an honest 
man ! * 

Henry Grattan, 1746-1820. 



162.— INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 

Delivered before the Senate, March 4, 1801. 

Let us reflect, fellow- 
citizens, that, having ban- 
ished from our land that 
religious intolerance under 
which mankind so long 
bled and suffered, we have 
yet gained little, if we 
countenance a political in- 
tolerance as despotic, as 
wicked and as capable of 
as bitter and bloody perse- 
cutions. During the throes 
and convulsions of the an- 
cient world — during the 
agonizing spasms of infuriated man, seeking, through blood 
and slaughter, his long-lost liberty — it is not wonderful that 
the agitation of the billows should reach even this distant and 
peaceful shore, that this should be more felt and feared by 

* At the time of this speech in the Irish Parliament, Flood and Grat- 
tan, although previously friends, stood before the British public as rival 
leaders. A bitter animosity had risen between them, and Grattan hav- 
ing unfortunately led the way in personality by speaking of his oppo- 
nents "affectation of infirmity," Flood replied with great asperity, 
denouncing Grattan as " a mendicant patriot," who, " bought by his 
country for a sum of money, then sold his country for prompt pay- 
ment." He also sneered at Grattan's "aping the style of Lord Chat- 
ham." To these taunts Grattan replied in a speech, an abridgment of 
which we here give. An arrangement for a hostile meeting between 
the parties was the consequence of this speech ; but Flood was arrested, 
and the crime of a duel was not added to the offense of vindictive 
personality, of which both had been guilty. Grattan lived to regret 
his harshness and speak in generous terms of his rival. 




JEFFERSON 



INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 317 

some and less by others, and should divide opinions as to 
measures of safety ; but every difference of opinion is not a 
difference of principle. We are all republicans ; we are all 
federalists. 

If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this 
Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undis- 
turbed, as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion 
may be tolerated, where reason is left free to combat it. I 
know, indeed, that some honest men fear that a republican 
government cannot be strong ; but would the honest patriot, 
in the full tide of successful experiment, abandon a govern- 
ment which has so far kept us free and firm, on the theoretic 
and visionary fear that this government, the world's best 
hope, may by possibility want energy to preserve itself? I 
trust not. 

I believe this, on the contrary, the strongest government on 
earth. I believe it the only one where every man, at the call 
of the law, would fly to the standard of the law, and would 
meet invasions of the public order as his own personal con- 
cern. Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with the 
government of himself. Can he, then, be trusted with the gov- 
ernment of others ? Or have we found angels in the form of 
kings to govern him ? Let history answer this question. 

Let us, then, with courage and confidence pursue our own 
federal and republican principles. These principles form the 
bright constellation which has gone before us and guided our 
steps through an age of revolution and reformation. The 
wisdom of our sages, the blood of our heroes, has been devoted 
to their attainment ; they should be the creed of our political 
faith, the text of civic instruction, the touchstone by which to 
try the services of those we trust ; and should we wander from 
them in moments of error or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace 
our steps and to regain the road which alone leads to peace, 
liberty aad safety. 

Thomas Jefferson, 1743-1826. 



27* 



318 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



163.— THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 

Sabbata pango, 
Funera plango, 
Solemnia clango. 

Inscription on an old bell 



With deep affection 
And recollection 
I often think of 

Those Shandon bells, 
Whose sounds so wild would, 
In the days of childhood, 
Fling round my cradle 

Their magic spells. 

On this I ponder 
Where'er I wander, 
And thus grow fonder, 

Sweet Cork, of thee, 
With thy bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

Pve heard bells chiming 
Full many a clime in, 
Tolling sublime in 

Cathedral shrine ; 
While at a glib rate 
Brass tongues would vibrate ; 
But all their music 

Spoke naught like thine. 

For memory, dwelling 
On each proud swelling 
Of thy belfry knelling 

Its bold notes free, 
Made the bells of Shandon 
Sound far more grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 



I've heard bells tolling 
Old Adrian's Mole in, 
Their thunder rolling 

From the Vatican ; 
And cymbals glorious 
Swinging uproarious 
In the gorgeous turrets 

Of Notre Dame. 

But thy sounds were sweeter 
Than the dome of Peter 
Flings o'er the Tiber, 

Pealing solemnly. 
Oh ! the bells of Shandon 
Sound far more grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

There's a bell in Moscow ; 
While on tower and kiosk O 
In Saint Sophia 

The Turkman gets, 
And loud in air 
Calls men to prayer, 
From the tapering summit 

Of tall minarets. 

Such empty phantom 
I freely grant them ; 
But there's an anthem 

More dear tome; 
'Tis the bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 
Francis Mahony {Father Praut). 



THE NATURE OF JUSTICE. 



319 




SHERIDA> T . 



164.— THE NATURE OF JUSTICE. 
From the speech on the trial of Warren Hastings, June 6, 1788. 

Let me call the attention of the 
court to the magnificent paragraph ; . 

in which Mr. Hastings concludes his , , , %' r 

communication. It will give you 
some idea of this man's notions of 
justice. "I hope," says Mr. Hast- 
ings, " it will not be a departure from 
official language to say that the ma- 
jesty of justice ought not to be ap- 
proached without solicitation. She 
ought not to descend to inflame or 
provoke, but withhold her judgment 
until called on to determine." 

Justice ought not to be approached without solicitation! 
Justice ought not to descend ! But, my lords, do you, the 
judges of this land and the expounders of its rightful laws — do 
you approve of this mockery and call it justice ? No ! justice 
is not this halt and miserable object ; it is not the ineffective 
bauble of an Indian pagod ; it is not the portentous phantom of 
despair ; it is not like any fabled monster, formed in the eclipse 
of reason and found in some unhallowed grove of superstitious 
darkness and political dismay! No, my lords. 

In the happy reverse of all these, I turn from this disgusting 
caricature to the real image ! Justice I have now before me, 
august and pure — the abstract idea of all that would be perfect 
in the spirits and the aspirings of men ; where the mind rises, 
where the heart expands ; where the countenance is ever placid 
and benign ; where her favorite attitude is to stoop to the un- 
fortunate, to hear their cry and to help them ; to rescue and 
relieve, to succor and save ; majestic from its mercy, venerable 
from its utility ; uplifted without pride, firm without obduracy ; 
beneficent in each preference, lovely though in her frown ! 

On that justice I rely, deliberate and sure, abstracted from 
all party purpose and political speculation, not in words, but 



320 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

in facts. You, my lords, who hear me, I conjure, by those 
rights it is your best privilege to preserve ; by that fame it is 
your best pleasure to inherit ; by all those feelings which refer 
to the first term in the series of existence, the original compact 
of our nature, our controlling rank in the creation, — to vindi- 
cate that justice. This is the call on all, to administer to truth 
and equity, as they would satisfy the laws, as they would sat- 
isfy themselves with the most exalted bliss possible or conceiv- 
able for our nature — the self-approving consciousness of virtue, 
when the condemnation we look for will be one of the most 
ample mercies accomplished for mankind since the creation 
of the world ! My lords, I have done. 

Kichakd Brinsley Sheridan, 1751-1816. 



165.— SIR LUCIUS AND BOB ACRES.* 

Acres. By my valor, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good 
distance. Odds levels and aims ! I say it is a good distance. 

Sir Lucius. Is it for muskets or small field-pieces ? Upon 
my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me. 
Stay, now — I'll show you. (Measures paces along the floor.) 
There, now ! that is a very pretty distance — a pretty gentle- 
man's distance. 

Act. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box. I 
tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take 
my aim. 

Sir L. Faith ! then I suppose you would aim at him best 
of all if he was out of sight ? 

Acr. No, Sir Lucius ; but I should think forty or eight and 
thirty yards — 

Sir L. Pooh, pooh, nonsense I Three or four feet between 
the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile. 

Acr. Odds bullets, no ! by my valor ! there is no merit in 

killing him so near ! Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring 

* Sir Lucius O'Trigger, an Irish gentleman, after having encouraged 
Acres to send a challenge for a fancied affront, consents to act as his 
second. The two appear on the field, Sir Lucius carrying a pistol and 
followed by Acres. 



SIB LUCIUS AND BOB ACBES. 321 

him down at a long shot — a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love 
me! 

Sir L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. 
But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there 
any little will or commission I could execute for you ? 

Act. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius, but I don't 
understand — 

Sir L. Why, you may think, there's no being shot at with- 
out a little risk ; and if an unlucky bullet should carry a qui- 
e'tus with it, I say it will be no time then to be bothering you 
about family matters. 

Acr. A quietus ! 

Sir L. For instance, now, if that should be the case, 
would you choose to be pickled and sent home ? or would it 
be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey ? I'm told there 
is very snug lying in the Abbey. 

Acr. Pickled ! Snug lying in the Abbey ! Odds tremors ! 
Sir Lucius, don't talk so ! 

Sir L. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an 
affair of this kind before ? 

Acr. No, Sir Lucius, never before. 

Sir L. Ah ! that's a pity ! There's nothing like being used 
to a thing. Pray, now, how would you receive the gentle- 
man's shot ? 

Acr. Odds files ! I've practiced that. There, Sir Lucius — 
there ! (Puts himself in an attitude.) A side front, hey ? I'll 
make myself small enough ; I'll stand edgeways. 

Sir L. Now, you're quite out ; for if you stand so when I 
take my aim — (Leveling the pistol at him.) 

Acr. Zounds ! Sir Lucius, are you sure it is not cocked ? 

Sir L. Never fear. 

Acr. But — but — you don't know — it may go off of its own 
head! 

Sir L. Pooh ! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the 
body, my bullet has a double chance ; for if it misses a vital 
part of your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed 
on the left. 

v 



322 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Acr. A vital part ! 

Sir L. But there ! fix yourself so. {Placing him.) Let him 
see the broadside of your full front ; there, now, a ball or two 
may pass clean thro' your body, and never do any harm at all. 

Acr. Can go through me — a ball or two clean through me ! 

Sir L. Ay, may they ; and it is much the genteelest attitude 
in the bargain. 

Acr. Look'ee, Sir Lucius ! I'd just as lieve be shot in an 
awkward posture as a genteel one ; so, by my valor ! I will 
stand edgeways. 

Sir L. {Looking at his watch.) Sure, they don't mean to 
disappoint us. Ha ! no, I think I see them coming. 

Acr. Hey? what? coming? 

Sir L. Ay. Who are those yonder, getting over the stile? 

Acr. There are two of them, indeed ! Well, let them come 
— hey, Sir Lucius ! we — we — we — we — won't run ! 

Sir L. Run ! 

Acr. No — I say — we won't run, by my valor ! 

Sir L. What's the matter with you ? 

Acr. Nothing — nothing — my dear friend — my dear Sir Lu- 
cius ! but I — I — I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did. 

Sir L. Oh, fy ! Consider your honor. 

Acr. Ay — true — my honor. Do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word 
or two every now and then about my honor. 

Sir L. Well, here they're coming. 

Acr. Sir Lucius, if I wasn't with you, I should almost think 
I was afraid ! If my valor should leave me ! Valor will 
come and go. 

Sir L. Then pray keep it fast while you have it. 

Acr. Sir Lucius, I doubt it is going ! — yes — my valor is 
certainly going ! — it is sneaking off! I feel it oozing out as 
it were at the palms of my hands ! 

Sir L. Your honor ! your honor ! Here they are. 

Acr. Oh, mercy ! — now — that I was safe at Clod Hall ! or 
could be shot before I was aware ! {Sir Imcius takes Acres 
by the arm and leads him reluctantly off.) 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan (see p. 319.) 



AN EXTENDED REPUBLIC. 



323 




MADISON. 



166.— AN EXTENDED REPUBLIC. 

Hearken not to the unnatural voice which tells you that the 
people of America, knit together as they are by so many cords 
of affection, can no longer live together as members of the 
same family; can no 
longer continue the mu- 
tual guardians of their 
mutual happiness ; can 
no longer be fellow-citi- 
zens of one great, respect- 
able and flourishing em- 
pire. Hearken not to the 
voice which petulantly 
tells you that the form 
of government recom- 
mended for your adop- ^ 
tion is a novelty in the 
political world ; that it has never yet had a place in the theo- 
ries of the wildest projectors ; that it rashly attempts what it 
is impossible to accomplish. 

No, my countrymen, shut your ears against this unhal- 
lowed language. Shut your hearts against the poison which 
it conveys. The kindred blood which flows in the veins of 
American citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in 
defense of their sacred rights, consecrate their union, and 
excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, 
enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the 
most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects, 
the most rash of all attempts, is that of rending us in pieces 
in order to preserve our liberties and promote our happiness. 

But why is the experiment of an extended republic to be 
rejected merely because it may comprise what is new ? Is it 
not the glory of the people of America that, whilst they have 
paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other 
nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, 
for custom or for names to overrule the suggestions of their 



324 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the 
lessons of their own experience ? To this manly spirit posterity 
will be indebted for the possession, and the world for the exam- 
ple, of the numerous innovations displayed on the American 
theatre in favor of private rights and public happiness. 

Had no important step been taken by the leaders of the 
Revolution for which a precedent could not be discovered — 
no government established of which an exact model did not 
present itself — the people of the United States might, at this 
moment, have been numbered among the melancholy victims 
of misguided councils — must, at best, have been laboring under 
the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the 
liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for America — 
happily, we trust, for the whole human race — they pursued a 
new and a nobler course. 

They accomplished a revolution which has no parallel in 
the annals of human society. They reared the fabrics of gov- 
ernments which have no model on the face of the globe. They 
formed the design of a great confederacy which it is incum- 
bent on their successors to improve and perpetuate. If their 
works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them. 
If they erred most in the structure of the Union, this was the 
work most difficult to be executed ; this is the work which has 
been new-modeled by the act of your convention, and it is that 
act on which you are now to deliberate and to decide. 

James Madison, 1751-1836. 



167.-ROCKS OF MY COUNTRY. 

Eocks of my country ! let the cloud your crested heights array ; 
And rise ye, like a fortress proud, above the surge and spray ! 
My spirit greets you as ye stand breasting the billows' foam : 
Oh, thus for ever guard the land, the sacred land of home ! 

I have left rich blue skies behind, lighting up classic shrines, 
And music in the southern wind and sunshine on the vines ; 
The breathings of the myrtle-flowers have floated o'er my way; 
The pilgrim's voice at vesper-hours hath soothed me with its lay : 



THE SOUTH DURING THE WAR OF .812. 



325 



The isles of Greece, the hills of Spain, the purple heavens of Rome, 
Yes, all are glorious, yet again I bless thee, land of home ! 
For thine the Sabbath peace, my land ! and thine the guarded hearth ; 
And thine the dead, the noble band that makes thee holy earth. 

Their voices meet me in thy breeze, their steps are on thy plains ; 
Their names by old majestic trees are whispered round thy fanes; 
Their blood hath mingled with the tide of thine exulting sea ; 
Oh, be it still a joy, a pride, to live and die for thee ! 

Felicia Hemaxs, 1793-1835. 



168.— THE SOUTH DURING THE WAR OF 1812. 

I come now to the war of 1812 — a war which, I well re- 
member, was called iu derision (while its event was doubtful) 
the Southern war, and sometimes the Carolina war, but which is 
now universally acknowledged to have done more for the honor 
and prosperity of the country than all other events in our history 
put together. 

What, sir, 
were the objects 
of that war? 
" Free trade and 
sailors' rights!" 
It was for the 
protection of 
Northern ship- 
ping and New 
England sea- , 
men that the 
country flew to 
arms. What in- 
terest had the 

South in that contest ? If they had sat down coldly to 
calculate the value of their interests involved in it, they would 
have found that they had everything to lose and nothing 
to gain. But, sir, with that generous devotion to country so 
characteristic of the South, they only asked if the rights of 

28 




ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 



326 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

any portion of their fellow-citizens had been invaded ; and when 
told that Northern ships and New England seamen had been 
arrested on the common highway of nations, they felt that the 
honor of their country w T as assailed ; and acting on that ex- 
alted sentiment " which feels a stain like a wound/' they 
resolved to seek in open war for a redress of those injuries 
which it did not become freemen to endure. 

Sir, the whole South, animated as by a common impulse, 
cordially united in declaring and promoting that war. South 
Carolina sent to your councils, as the advocates and supporters 
of that war, the noblest of her sons. How they fulfilled that 
trust let a grateful country tell. Not a measure was adopted, 
not a battle fought, not a victory won, which contributed in 
any degree to the success of that war, to which Southern coun- 
cils and Southern valor did not largely contribute. 

Sir, since South Carolina is assailed, I must be suffered 
to speak it to her praise, that, at the very moment when in 
one quarter we heard it solemnly proclaimed " that it did not 
become a moral and religious people to rejoice at the victories 
of our army or our navy," her legislature unanimously 

" Resolved, That we will cordially support the government 
in the vigorous prosecution of the war, until a peace can be 
obtained on honorable terms ; and we will cheerfully submit 
to every privation that may be required of us by our govern- 
ment for the accomplishment of this object." 

South Carolina redeemed that pledge. She threw open her 
treasury to the government. She put at the absolute disposal 
of the officers of the United States all that she possessed — her 
men, her money and her arms. She appropriated half a mil- 
lion of dollars, on her own account, in defense of her maritime 
frontier ; ordered a brigade of State troops to be raised ; and 
when left to protect herself by her own means, never suffered 
the enemy to touch her soil without being instantly driven 
off or captured. Such, sir, was the conduct of the South — 
such the conduct of my own State — in that dark hour " which 
tried men's souls \ " 

Robert Y, Hayne (see p. 192). 



WISDOM AND WEALTH. 327 

169.— WISDOM AND WEALTH. 

I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever, 

Witty and wise ; he paid a man a visit, 

And no one noticed him, and no one ever 

Gave him a welcome. "Strange! " cried he, " whence is it?" 

He walked on this side, then on that, 

He tried to introduce a social chat ; 
Now here, now there, in vain he tried ; 
Some formally and freezingly replied, 
And some said, by their silence, " Better stay at home." 

A rich man burst the door, 

As Croesus rich ; I'm sure 
He could not pride himself upon his wit ; 
And as for wisdom, he had none of it ; 
He had what some think better — he had wealth. 

What a confusion ! all stand up erect — 
These crowd around to ask him of his health ; 

These bow in honest duty and respect ; 
And these arrange a sofa or a chair ; 
And these conduct him there. 
"Allow me, sir, the honor;" then a bow 
Down to the earth — is 't possible to show 
Meet gratitude for such kind condescension ? 

The poor man hung his head, 

And to himself he said, 
" This is indeed beyond my comprehension : " 
Then looking round, one friendly face he found, 
And said, " Pray tell me why is wealth preferred 
To wisdom ? " " That's a silly question, friend ! " 
Replied the other. "Have you never heard, 

A man may lend his store 

Of gold or silver ore, 
But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend ? " 
Translated from the Russian of Khemnitzer by Bowring. 



328 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



170.— WAR CONSEQUENT ON DISSOLUTION. 

Mr. President, I have said, what I solemnly believe, that 
the dissolution of the Union and war are identical and in- 
separable — -that they are convertible terms. Such a war, too, 

as that would be ! 
Sir, we may search 
the pages of history, 
and none so furious, 
so bloody, so implac- 
able, so exterminat- 
ing, from the wars 
of Greece down, in- 
cluding those of the 
Commonwealth of 
England, and the Re- 
volution of France 
— none, none of them 
raged with such vio- 
lence, none was ever 
henry clay. conducted with such 

bloodshed and enormities, as must attend that war which shall 
follow the disastrous event — if that event ever happen — of the 
dissolution of the Union. 

And what would be its termination ? Standing armies and 
navies, to an extent draining the revenues of each portion of 
the dissevered empire, would be created ; exterminating wars 
would follow — not wars of two or three years, but wars which 
would endure until some Philip or Alexander, some Csesar or 
Napoleon, would rise to cut the Gordian knot, and solve the ca- 
pacity of man for self-government, and crush the liberties of 
both the dissevered portions of this Union. Can you doubt it ? 
Look at history ; consult the pages of all history, ancient 
or modern ; look at human nature ; look at the character of the 
contest in which you would be engaged in the event of a war 
following the dissolution of the Union, such as I have suggested ; 
and I ask you if it is possible for you to doubt that the final but 




THE ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM. 329 

perhaps distant termination of the whole would be some despot 
treading down the liberties of the people ? — that the final result 
would be the extinction of this last glorious light which is 
leading all mankind, who are gazing upon it, to cherish hope 
and anxious expectation that the liberty which prevails here 
will, sooner or later, be the lot of the rest of the civilized 
world? Can you lightly contemplate the consequences? Can 
you yield yourself to the tyranny of passion, amid the dan- 
gers which I have depicted in colors far too tame — far short 
of what would be the reality, if the event should ever happen ? 
I implore gentlemen, whether from the South or the North, 
by all they hold dear in the world, by all their love of 
liberty, by all their veneration for their ancestors, by all their 
regard for posterity, by all their gratitude to Him who has be- 
stowed upon them such unnumbered blessings; by all the 
duties which they owe to mankind and all the duties which 
they owe to themselves, — by all these considerations I implore 
them to pause — solemnly to pause — at the edge of the preci- 
pice, before the fearful and disastrous leap is taken into the 
yawning abyss below, the abyss of certain and irretrievable 
destruction. And, finally, I implore, as the best blessing which 
heaven can bestow upon me on earth, that if the direful event 
of the dissolution of the Union shall happen, I may not sur- 
vive to behold the sad, the heart-rending spectacle. Clay. 



171.— THE ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM. 

O Freedom ! thou art not, as poets dream, 

A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, 

And wavy tresses gushing from the cap 

With which the Roman master crowned his slave 

When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, 

Armed to the teeth, art thou ; one mailed hand 

Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword ; thy brow, 

Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred 

With tokens of old wars ; thy massive limbs 

Are strong with struggling. 

28 * 



330 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Power at thee has launched 

His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee ; 

They could not quench the life thou hast from Heaven. 

Merciless Power has dug thy dungeon deep, 

And his swart armorers, by a thousand fires, 

Have forged thy chain ; yet while he deems thee bound, 

The links are shivered, and the prison walls 

Fall outward ; terribly thou springest forth, 

As springs the flame above a burning pile, 

And shoutest to the nations, who return 

Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor flies. 

Thy birthright was not given by human hands. 

Thou wert twin-born with man. In pleasant fields, 

While yet our race was few, thou sat'st with him 

To tend the quiet flock and watch the stars, 

And teach the reed to utter simple airs. 

Thou by his side, amid the tangled wood, 

Didst war upon the panther and the wolf, 

His only foes ; and thou with him didst draw 

The earliest furrows on the mountain side, 

Soft with the deluge. Tyranny himself, 

Thy enemy, although of reverend look, 

Hoary with many years, and far obeyed, 

Is later born than thou ; and as he meets 

The grave defiance of thine elder eye, 

The usurper trembles in his fastnesses. 

Thou shalt wax stronger with the lapse of years, 
But he shall fade into a feebler age — 
Feebler, yet subtler. He shall weave his snares, 
And spring them on thy careless steps, and clap 
His withered hands, and from their ambush call 
His hordes to fall upon thee. He shall send 
Quaint maskers, wearing fair and gallant forms, 
To catch thy gaze, and, uttering graceful words 
To charm thy ear ; while his sly imps, by stealth, 



THE GREAT REPUBLIC. 



331 



Twine round thee threads of steel, light thread on thread, 
That grow to fetters ; or bind down thy arms 
With chains concealed in chaplets. Oh ! not yet 
May'st thou unbrace thy corslet, or lay by 
Thy sword ! nor yet, O Freedom ! close thy lids 
In slumber ; for thine enemy never sleeps ; 
And thou must watch and combat, till the day 
Of the new earth and heaven. 

William C. Bryant. 



172.— THE GREAT REPUBLIC. 

So surely as 
American society 
founds itself upon 
the rights of civ- 
ilized man, there 
is no permanent 
safety for any na- 
tion but in the 
progressive rec- 
ognition of the 
American princi- 
ple. The right 
of governing a 
nation belongs to 
the people of the 
nation ; and the 
urgent duty of holmes. 

those provisional governments which we call monarchies, em- 
pires, aristocracies, is to educate the people with a view to the 
final surrender of all power into their hands. 

Just so far as the people of Europe understand the nature 
of our armed controversy they will understand that we are 
pleading their cause. Nay, if the mass of our Southern breth- 
ren did but know it (as they one day will), we are pleading 




332 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

their cause just as much. The emancipation of industry has 
never taken effect in the South, and never can until labor 
ceases to be degrading. 

No deeper humiliation could be asked for our foreign ene- 
mies than the spectacle of our triumph. No Tartar hordes 
pouring from the depths of Asia, no northern barbarians 
swarming out of the hive of nations, no Saracens sweeping 
from their deserts to plant the crescent over the symbol of 
Christendom, were more terrible to the principalities and powers 
that stood in their way than the great Republic, by the bare 
fact of its existence, will become, to every government which 
does not hold its authority from the people. 

The spirit of republican America is not that of a wild pro- 
pagandism. It is not by war that we have sought or should 
ever seek to convert the Old World to our theories and prac- 
tice in government. If this young nation is permitted, in the 
providence of God, to unfold all its possibilities into powers, 
the great lesson it will teach will be that of peaceful develop- 
ment. American civilization hates war as such. It values life 
because it honors humanity. It values property because prop- 
erty is for the comfort and good of all, and not merely plunder 
to be wasted by a few irresponsible lawgivers. It wants all 
the forces of its population to subdue Nature to its service. It 
demands all the intellect of its children for construction, not 
for destruction. 

Let us not, therefore, waste our strength in threats of ven- 
geance against those misguided governments who mistook their 
true interest in the prospect of our calamity. We can conquer 
them by peace better than by war. When the Union emerges 
from the battle-smoke — her crest towering, her eyes flashing 
defiance to all her evil-wishers, her breast heaving under its 
corslet of iron, her arm wielding the mightiest enginery that 
was ever forged into the thunderbolts of war — her triumph 
will be grand enough, without her setting fire to the stubble 
with which the folly of the Old World has girt its thrones. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



AGAINST MARK ANTONY. 



333 



173.— AGAINST MARK ANTONY. 

THE SPEECH THAT COST CICERO HIS LIFE. 

The doings of this day — defend them, Antony, if you can. 
Why is the Forum hedged in with armed troops ? Why stand 
your satellites listening to me sword in hand ? Why are not 
the gates of the Temple of Peace flung 
open ? Why have you marched into ; / . 

the city men of all nations — but bar- 
barians chiefly — savages, armed with 
slings, from Itursea ? 

You pretend that it is all to protect 
your person. Is it not better far to 
die a thousand deaths than not to be 
able to live in one's own country with- 
out guards of armed men ? But, trust 
me, there is no safety in defenses like 
these. If we would be secure, we 
must be girt around with the love and 
the respect of our countrymen, and not 
with armed defenders. 

Look back, Mark Antony, to that 
day when you abolished the dictator- 
ship ; recall the satisfaction of the Senate and people of Eome ; 
contrast that act with the traffic in which you and your crea- 
tures are now engaged ; realize, if you can, the vast difference 
between glory and gain. Yet as in some diseases men lose 
the sense of taste, and cannot distinguish the flavor of food, 
so do the profligate, the rapacious, the desperate, lose the relish 
of true fame. 

But if glory cannot charm, cannot fear deter you ? You 
have no uneasiness about criminal prosecutions. Be it so. If 
from conscious innocence springs your confidence, I commend 
it ; but if from your reliance upon mere force, do you not per- 
ceive that he who thus defies the terrors of the law may him- 
self become the victim of the lawless ? 

If, shielded by satellites, you have no fear of brave men and 




ROMAJN KMBT.KMS. 



334 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

patriotic citizens, have a care lest your own partisans turn 
against you. And what a life is his whom fears of his own 
followers distract ! Can you bind yours to you by obligations 
greater than those by which Caesar bound to him some of the 
very men who put him to death ? Can you, in any respect, 
be compared to him — to Caesar ? 

In him there was genius, judgment, culture, zeal, and high 
resolve. His exploits in war, how mischievous soever to his 
country, were yet transcendent. Devoted for years to the 
attainment of supreme power, he accomplished his object with 
vast labor, through countless perils. By his munificence, his 
public works, his largesses, his hospitalities, he won over to his 
cause the dazzled multitude. His followers he attached by 
his generosity, his adversaries by his specious clemency. In a 
word, partly because he was feared, and partly because he was 
tolerated, he made a free state familiar with slavery. 

That great man you may resemble in your lust of power, 
but in nothing else are you like him. And does it never 
occur to you what the Roman people have learnt? Do you 
not comprehend that brave men now recognize how beauti- 
ful the deed, how precious the service, how glorious the fame 
of extirpating a tyrant f The people who could not endure a 
Caesar, will they now submit to an Antony ? 

Look to yourself, Mark Antony ! What my principles are 
I will now freely proclaim. I defended the republic when I 
was young — I will not desert it now I am old ! I have despised 
the sword of Catiline, and the sword of Antony shall not 
alarm me. Most willingly would I sacrifice this body, if by 
my death the liberty of Rome could be established. Did not 
I say twenty years ago, in this very Senate, that when a man 
perished who had reached the dignity of consul, he could not 
be said to have perished prematurely ? 

And do you think, now that old age is come upon me, I will 
retract or deny this doctrine ? Conscript fathers, I wish for 
death ; I have gained all that the republic can bestow ; I have 
performed all that it can require ! Let death come when it 
will, I am prepared to meet it. I have only two things to 



THE PIBROCH. 335 



implore — first, that my country may deal out to all her 
children the punishment or reward they merit ; next, that 
when I do die, I may leave Rome free. If the gods grant me 
this, there is no higher boon which they can bestow.* 

Makcus Tullius Cicero (see p. 106). 



174.— THE PIBROCH.f 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, pibroch of Donuil, 
Wake thy wild voice anew, summon Clan-Conuil. 
Come away, come away, hark to the summons ! 
Come in your war array, gentles and commons. 

Come from deep glen, and from mountain so rocky ; 
The war-pipe and pennon are at Inverlochy ; 
Come every hill-plaid, and true heart that wears one, 
Come every steel-blade, and strong hand that bears one. 

Leave untended the herd, the flock without shelter ; 
Leave the corpse uninterred, the bride at the altar ; 
Leave the deer, leave the steer, leave nets and barges, 
Come with your fighting gear, broadswords and targes. 

Come as the winds come when forests are rended ; 
Come as the waves come when navies are stranded : 
Faster come, faster come, faster and faster, 
Chief, vassal, page and groom, tenant and master. 

Fast they come, fast they come ; see how they gather ! 
Wide waves the eagle plume blended with heather. 
Cast your plaids, draw your blades, forward each man set! 
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, knell for the onset ! 

Sir Walter Scott. 

* Stung by the philippics of Cicero, Antony insisted on his death, and 
Octavius basely consented to it. Cicero perished in the year 43 B. C. 
He was opposed to Csesar, though not a party to his assassination. See 
note p. 107. 

t A pibroch is among the Highlanders of Scotland a martial air played 
on the bag-pipe. 



336 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




SHAKSPEARE. 



175.— HOTSPUR AND GLENDOWER. 

Glendower. Hail, good cousin 
Percy! hail, good cousin 
Hotspur ! 
For by that name, as oft as Lan- 
caster 
Doth speak of you, his cheeks look 

pale, and, with 
A rising sigh, he wisheth you in 
heaven. 
Hotspur. And you — in the other 
place, as often as he hears 
Owen Glendower spoken of. 

Glen. I cannot blame him. At my nativity 
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
Of burning cressets ; and at my birth 
The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
Shaked like a coward. 

Hot. Why, so it would have done 
At the same season if your mother's cat 
Had but kittened, though yourself had never been born. 
Glen. I say the earth did shake when I was born. 
Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind, 
If you suppose as fearing you it shook. 

Glen. The heavens were all on fire ; the earth did tremble. 
Hot. Oh, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, 
And not in fear of your nativity. 
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
In strange eruptions ; oft the teeming earth 
Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed 
By the imprisonment of unruly wind 
Within her held, which, for enlargement striving, 
Shakes the old beldamed earth, and topples down 
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth, 
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature, 
In passion shook. 



HOTSPUR AND GLENDOWER. 337 

Glen. Cousin, of many men 
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
To tell you once again that at my birth 
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ; 
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields. 
These signs have marked me extraordhiary, 
And all the courses of my life do show 
I am not in the roll of common men. 

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh. 

Glen. 1 can speak English, lord, as well as you ; 
For I was trained up in the English court, 
Where, being but young, I framed to the harp 
Many an English ditty, lovely well, 
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament — 
A virtue that was never seen in you. 

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it, with all my heart. 
I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew I 
Than one of those same meter ballad-mongers ; 
I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turned, 
Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree ; 
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
Nothing so much as mincing poetry. 
'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag ! 

Glen. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 

Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man ; 
But will they come, when you do call for them ? 

Glen. I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil. 

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, 
By telling truth : tell truth, and shame the devil. 

Glen. No more of this unprofitable chat ! {Exit.) 

Hot. No more, and welcome, Owen Glendower ! 

He can " call spirits from the vasty deep ! " 

And he can teach me to " command the devil ! " 

O, he's as tedious as is a tired horse, a railing wife ; 

Worse than a smoky house ; I had rather live 

With cheese and garlic, in a windmill^ far, 
29 W 



338 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me, 
In any summer-house in Christendom ! 

Shakspeare (altered). 



176.— AGAINST WHIPPING IN THE NAVY. 

There is one broad proposition, senators, upon which I 
stand. It is this — that an American sailor is an American 
citizen, and that no American citizen shall, with my con- 
sent, be subjected to the infamous punishment of the lash. 
Placing myself upon this proposition, I am prepared for any 
consequences. I love the navy. When I speak of the navy, 
I mean the sailor as well as the officer. They are all my fellow- 
citizens and yours ; and come what may, my voice will ever be 
raised against a punishment which degrades my countrymen 
to the level of a brute, and destroys all that is worth living 
for — personal honor and self-respect. 

In many a bloody conflict has the superiority of the Ameri- 
can sailors decided the battle in our favor. I desire to secure 
and preserve that superiority. But can nobleness of sentiment 
or honorable pride of character dwell with one whose every 
muscle has been made to quiver under the lash ? Can he long 
continue to love a country whose laws crush out all the dig- 
nity of manhood and rouse all the exasperation of hate in his 
breast ? 

Look to your history — that part of it which the world 
knows by heart — and you will find on its brightest page the 
glorious achievements of the American sailor. Whatever his 
country has done to disgrace him and break his spirits, he has 
never disgraced her. Man for man, he asks no odds, and he 
cares for no odds, when the cause of humanity or the glory of 
his country calls him to the fight. Who, in the darkest days 
of our Revolution, carried your flag into the very chops of the 
British Channel, bearded the lion in his den, and awoke the 
echo of old Albion's hills by the thunder of his cannon and 
the shouts of his triumph? It was the American sailor ; and the 



AGAINST WHIPPING IN THE NA VY. 339 



names of John Paul Jones and the Bon Homme Richard will 
go down the annals of time for ever. 

Who struck the first blow that humbled the Barbary flag — 
which, for a hundred years, had been the terror of Christen- 
dom — drove it from the Mediterranean, and put an end to the 
infamous tribute it had been accustomed to exact ? It was the 
American sailor ; and the names of Decatur and his gallant 
companions will be as lasting as monumental brass. 

In your war of 1812, when your arms on shore were covered 
by disaster — when Winchester had been defeated, when the 
army of the North-west had surrendered, and when the gloom 
of despondency hung like a cloud over the land — who first 
relit the fires of national glory, and made the welkin ring with 
the shouts of victory ? It was the American sailor ; and the 
names of Hull and the Constitution will be remembered as 
long as we have anything left worth remembering. That was 
no small event. The wand of British invincibility was broken 
when the flag of the Guerriere came down. 

That one event was worth more to the republic than all the 
money which has ever been expended for the navy. Since 
that day the navy has had no stain upon its national escutch- 
eon, but has been cherished as your pride and glory ; and the 
American sailor has established a reputation throughout the 
world, in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, for a hero- 
ism and prowess unsurpassed. 

The great climax of Cicero in his speech against Verres is 
that, though a Roman citizen, his client had been scourged. 
Will this more than Roman senate long debate whether an 
American citizen, sailor though he be, shall be robbed of hiy 
rights ? whether, freeman as he is, he shall be scourged like a 
slave? Shall an American citizen be scourged? Forbid it, 
Heaven! Humanity forbid it! For myself, I would rather 
see the navy abolished, and the stars and the stripes buried, 
with their glory, in the depths of the ocean, than that those 
who won for it all its renown should be subjected to a punish- 
ment so brutal, to an ignominy so undeserved. 

Commodore R. F. Stockton. 



340 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




GEASMERE, THE RESIDENCE OF WORDSWORTH. 

177.— ODE. 

INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILD- 
HOOD. 



There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, 
The earth, and every common sight, 

To me did seem 
Appareled in celestial 

light, 
The glory and the 
freshness of a 
dream. 
It is not now as it hath 

been of yore; 
Turn wheresoe'er I 
may, 
By night or day, 
The things which I 
have seen I now 
can see no more. 

WORDSWORTH. 




ODE. 341 

ii. 

The rainbow comes and goes, 
And lovely is the rose ; 
The moon doth with delight 
Look round her when the heavens are bare; 
Waters on a starry night 
Are beautiful and fair ; 
The sunshine is a glorious birth ; 
But yet I know, where'er I go, 
That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. 

in. 

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, 
And while the young lambs bound 
As to the tabor's sound, 
To me alone there came a thought of grief; 
A timely utterance gave that thought relief ; 

And I again am strong. 
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep — 
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong : 
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng ; 
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep ; 
And all the earth is gay. 
Land and sea 
Give themselves up to jollity; 

And with the heart of May 
Doth every beast keep holiday ; 
Thou child of joy, 
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd- 
boy! 

IV. 

Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call 

Ye to each other make ; I see 
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; 

My heart is at your festival, 
My head hath its coronal, 
2d* 



342 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

The fullness of your bliss I feel — I feel it all. 
Oh, evil day ! if I were sullen, 
While Earth herself is adorning, 

This sweet May morning ; 
And the children are culling, 

On every side, 
In a thousand valleys far and wide, 
Fresh flowers ; while the sun shines warm, 
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm :— 
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear ! 
— But there's a tree, of many one, 
A single field which I have looked upon — 
Both of them speak of something that is gone: 
The pansy at my feet 
Doth the same tale repeat : 
Whither is fled the visionary gleam ? 
Where is it now, the glory and the dream ? 



v. 

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting : 

The soul that rises with us, our life's star, 

Hath had elsewhere its setting, 

And cometh from afar ; 
Not in entire forgetfulness, 
And not in utter nakedness, 
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 

From God, who is our home : 
Heaven lies about us in our infancy ! 
Shades of the prison-house begin to close 

Upon the growing boy ; 
But he beholds the light and whence it flows, 

He sees it in his joy ; 
The youth, who daily farther from the east 
Must travel, still is Nature's priest, 
And by the vision splendid 
Is on his way attended ; 



ODE. 343 

At length the man perceives it die away, 
And fade into the light of common day. 

VI. 

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own : 
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind ; 
And even with something of a mother's mind, 

And no unworthy aim, 
The homely nurse doth all she can 
To make her foster-child, her inmate man, 

Forget the glories he hath known 
And that imperial palace whence he came. 

VII. 

Behold the child among his new-born blisses, 
A six years' darling of a pigmy size ! 
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, 
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, 
With light upon him from his father's eyes ! 
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, 
Some fragment from his dream of human life, 
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; 
A wedding or a festival, 
A mourning or a funeral ; 

And this hath now his heart ; 
And unto this he frames his song : 
Then will he fit his tongue 
To dialogues of business, love or strife ; 
But it will not be long 
Ere this be thrown aside, 
And with new joy and pride 
The little actor cons another part ; 
Filling from time to time his " humorous stage" 
With all the persons, down to palsied age, 
That Life brings with her in her equipage ; 
As if his whole vocation 
Were endless imitation. 



344 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

VIII. 

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie 

Thy soul's immensity, 
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep 
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind, 
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, 
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind — 

Mighty prophet ! seer blest ! 

On whom those truths do rest, 
Which we are toiling all our lives to find, 
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ; . 
Thou, over whom thy immortality 
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, 
A presence which is not to be put by ; 
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might 
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, 
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke 
The years to bring the inevitable yoke, 
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife.? 
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, 
And custom lie upon thee with a weight 
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life ! 

IX. 

Oh, joy ! that in our embers 

Is something that doth live ! 
That nature yet remembers 
What was so fugitive ! 
The thought of our past years in me doth breed 
Perpetual benediction : not indeed 
For that which is most worthy to be blest ; 
Delight and liberty, the simple creed 
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, 
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast,- 
Not for these I raise 
The song of thanks and praise; 



ODE. 345 

But for those obstinate questionings . 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings ; 
Blank misgivings of a creature 
Moving about in worlds not realized, 
High instincts, before which our mortal nature 
Did tremble, like a guilty thing surprised : 
But for those first affections, 
Those shadowy recollections, 

Which, be they what they may, 
Are yet the fountain light of all our day, 
Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; 

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
Of the eternal silence : truths that wake 

To perish never ; 
Which neither listlessness nor mad endeavor, 

Nor man nor boy, 
Nor all that is at enmity w r ith joy, 
Can utterly abolish or destroy ! 
Hence, in a season of calm weather, 

Though inland far we be, 
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 
Which brought us hither ; 
Can in a moment travel thither, 
And see the children sport upon the shore, 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. 

x. 

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song ! 

And let the young lambs bound 

As to the tabor's sound ! 
We, in thought, will join your throng, 

Ye that pipe and ye that play, 

Ye that through your hearts to-day 

Feel the gladness of the May ! 



346 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

What though the radiance which was once so bright 
Be now for ever taken from my sight, 

Though nothing can bring back the hour 
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower ? 

We will grieve not, rather find 

Strength in what remains behind ; 

In the primal sympathy 

Which having been must ever be ; 

In the soothing thoughts that spring 

Out of human suffering ; 

In the faith that looks through death, 
In years that bring the philosophic mind. 

XI. 

And, O ye fountains, meadows, hills and groves, 

Forebode not any severing of our loves ! 

Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might ; 

I only have relinquished one delight, 

To live beneath your more habitual sway. 

I love the brooks, Avhich down their channels fret, 

Even more than when I tripped lightly as they ; 

The innocent brightness of a new-born day 

Is lovely yet ; 
The clouds that gather round the setting sun 
Do take a sober coloring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality : 
Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 
Thanks to the human heart by which we live ; 
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears ; 
To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 

William Wordsworth,* 1770-1850. 

* Coleridge describes the higher efforts of "Wordsworth's pen as being 
characterized by "an austere purity of language, both grammatically 
and logically." No English poet, who has dealt with lofty themes, is 
more thoroughly English in his style. 



ANCIENT ORATORS COMPARED. 



347 




178.— ANCIENT ORATORS COMPARED.* 

Luminous truths, noble thoughts, expressions adequate and 
strong, mark the discourse of the true orator. He thinks, he 
feels, and language follows. "He does not depend on his 
words," says St. Augus- 
tine, "but his words de- 
pend upon Mm." A man 
with force and grandeur 
of soul, with some natural 
facility in speaking and 
sufficient practice, need 
never fear that words 
will fail him. His most 
unconsidered discourse 
will have original traits 
which florid decl aimers 
can never imitate. He is 
not a slave to words. He 
goes straight to the truth. 
He knows that earnestness is the very soul of speech. 

Remounting to the first principle of the subject he has to 
unfold, he places that principle in its elementary point of view, 
and from it, as from a centre, radiates light over every part 
of his discourse; even as a painter distributes his light over 
the objects of his picture, in due proportion, from some com- 
mon point. The whole speech is a unit. It is reduced to a 
single proposition, exhibited in its perfect simplicity by the 
aid of various forms of expression. From this unity of design 
it follows that the entire work is presented to us in a siugle 
glance, just as from the central public place in a city we may 
see all the streets and gates, when the lines are straight, equal 
and symmetrical. The discourse is the proposition developed; 
the proposition is the discourse abridged. 

A rare quality is order like this ; and when combined with 
justice in the sentiment, with vehemence and pith in the ex- 

* Translated for Oxford's Senior Speaker. 



FENELON. 



348 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

pression, it contributes chiefly to the perfection of a discourse. 
But to know the precise place for every word, one must have 
seen, penetrated, and embraced his subject wholly; and this is 
what the unskillful declaimer, carried away by his imagina- 
tion, fails to do. 

Isoc'ra-tes is smooth, insinuating, and elegant, but can we 
compare him to Homer ? Let us go farther. I do not hesitate 
to say that to me Demosthenes seems superior to Cicero. I 
yield to no one in my admiration of Cicero. He embellishes 
whatever he touches. He does honor to speech. He uses 
words as no one else can use them. His versatility is amazing. 
He is even concise and vehement when he wills to be so — as 
against Catiline, against Verres, against Antony. But we 
detect the embellishment in his discourses. The art is marvel- 
ous, but it is not concealed. The orator, in his concern for the 
republic, does not forget himself, nor does he allow himself to 
be forgotten. 

Demosthenes, on the contrary, seems to go out of himself 
and to recognize only his country. He does not seek for the 
beautiful. All unconsciously, he creates it. He is superior to 
admiration. He uses language, as a modest man does his 
garment, for a covering. He thunders, he lightens ; he is like 
a torrent hurrying all before it. We cannot criticise him, for 
we are in the sweep of his influence. We think on what he 
says, and not on how he says it. We lose sight of the speaker. 
We are occupied only with the all-invading, all-absorbing 
Philip. 

To both of these matchless orators I yield my homage ; but 
I confess that I am less touched by the infinite art and mag- 
nificent eloquence of Cicero than by the rapid simplicity of 
Demosthenes. 

Fekelon,* 1651-1715. 



* Francis de Salignac de la Motte Fenelon, archbishop of Cambray in 
France, was one of the most distinguished persons who have adorned 
the religious profession in any age. As a man of letters he won high 
fame, but he was good as well as great, and his character is one of the 
noblest and most lovable in all history. 



ORDER OF NATURE. 



349 




POPE'S VILLA AT TWICKENHAM. 

179.— ORDER OF NATURE. 

See through this air, this ocean and this earth, 
All matter quick, and bursting into birth. 
Above, how high progressive life may go ! 
Around, how wide! how deep extend below ! 
Vast chain of being, which from God began, 
Natures ethereal, human, angel, man, 
Beast, bird, fish, insect — what no eye can see, 
No glass can reach — from infinite to thee — 
From thee to nothing — on superior powers 
Were we to press, inferior might on ours ; 
Or in the full creation leave a void, 
Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroyed 
From nature's chain whatever link you strike, 
Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike. 



And if each system in gradation roll, 
Alike essential to the amazing whole, 



30 



350 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

The least confusion but in one, not all 

That system only, but the whole, must fall. 

Let earth, unbalanced, from her orbit fly, 

Planets and suns run lawless through the sky ; 

Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurled, 

Being on being wrecked, and world on world, 

Heaven's whole foundations to their centre nod, 

And nature trembles to the throne of God ! 

All this dread order break ? For whom ? For thee, 

Vile worm ! — oh, madness ! pride ! impiety ! 

What if the foot, ordained the dust to tread, 
Or hand to toil, aspired to be the head? 
What if the head, the eye or ear repined 
To serve mere engines to the ruling mind ? 
Just as absurd for any part to claim 
To be another in this general frame — 
Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains, 
The great directing Mind of all ordains. 

All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul ; 
That, changed through all, and yet in all the same, 
Great in the earth as in the ethereal frame, 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, 
Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent, 
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart ; 
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, 
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : 
To him, no high, no low, no great, no small ; 
He fills, he bounds, connects and equals all. 

Alexander Pope, 1688-1744. 



THE PLYMOUTH SETTLERS. 351 

180.— THE PLYMOUTH SETTLERS. 

Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous ves- 
sel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the pros- 
pects of a future State and bound across the unknown sea. I 
behold it pursuing with a thousand misgivings the uncer- 
tain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and 
months pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings 
them not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now 
scantily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation 
in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a cir- 
cuitous route, and now driven in fury before the raging tem- 
pest in their scarcely seaworthy vessel. 

The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging ; 
the laboring masts seem straining from their base ; the dismal 
sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship leaps, as it were, madly, 
from billow to billow ; the ocean breaks and settles with in- 
gulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening 
weight against the staggered vessel. 

I see them escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but 
desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' 
passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, weak and ex- 
hausted from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provisioned, 
without shelter, without means, surrounded by hostile tribes. 

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me on any principle 
of human probability what shall be the fate of this handful of 
adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many 
months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes 
enumerated within the boundaries of New England ? 

Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on 
which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish 
on the distant coast? Student of history, compare for me the 
baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned ad- 
ventures of other times, and find the parallel of this. 

Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of 
women and children ? was it hard labor and spare meals ? was it 
disease ? the tomahawk ? was it the deep malady of a blighted 



352 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



hope, a ruined enterprise and a broken heart, aching, in its 
last moments, at the recollections of the loved and left, beyond 
the sea ? — was it some or all of these united that hurried this 
forsaken company to their melancholy fate ? 

And is it possible that no one of these causes, that not all 
combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possible 
that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so 
much of admiration as of pity, there have gone forth a pro- 
gress so steady, a growth so wonderful, an expansion so am- 
ple, a reality so important, a promise, yet to be fulfilled, so 
glorious ! 

Edward Everett, 1794-1865. 

181.-ON THE REFORM BILL, 1831. 

My lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude which I 
feel for the event of this debate, because I know full well that 
the peace of the country is involved in the issue. I cannot 
look without dismay at the rejection of the measure. But 
grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary defeat — 
temporary it can only be ; for its ultimate and even speedy suc- 
cess is certain — nothing now can stop it. Do not suffer your- 
selves to be persuaded that even if the present ministers were 
driven from the helm, any one could steer you through the 
troubles that surround you without reform. But our succes- 
sors would take up the task amid circumstances far less auspi- 
cious. Under them you would be fain to grant a bill compared 
with which the one we now proffer is moderate indeed. 

Hear the parable of the Sibyl, for it conveys a wise and 
wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and offers 
you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes — of wisdom and 
peace. The price she asks is reasonable — to restore the fran- 
chise which, without any bargain, you ought voluntarily to 
give. You refuse her terms — her moderate terms — she dark- 
ens the porch no longer. But soon, for you cannot do without 
her wares, you call her back. Again she comes, but with 
diminished treasures ; the leaves of the book are in part torn 



ON THE REFORM BILL. 353 

away by lawless hands — in part defaced with characters of 
blood. But the prophetic maid has risen in her demands : it 
is Parliament by the year, it is vote by the ballot, it is suffrage 
by the million ! From this you turn away indignant, and for 
the second time she departs. 

Beware of her third visit, for the treasure you must have, 
and what price she may next demand who shall tell ? It may 
be even the mace which rests upon that woolsack. What may 
follow your course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I cannot take 
upon me to predict, nor do I wish to conjecture. But this I 
know full well — that as sure as man is mortal and to err is 
human, justice deferred enhances the price at which you must 
purchase safety and peace ; nor can you more expect to gather 
in another crop than they did who went before you, if you 
persevere in their utterly abominable husbandry of sowing 
injustice and reaping rebellion. 

But among the awful considerations that now bow down my 
mind, there is one which stands pre-eminent above the rest. 
You are the highest judicature in the realm ; you sit here as 
judges, and decide all causes, civil and criminal, without ap- 
peal. It is a judge's first duty never to pronounce sentence, 
in the most trifling case, without hearing. Will you make 
this the exception ? Are you really prepared to determine, 
but not to hear, the mighty cause upon which a nation's hopes 
and fears hang ? You are ! Then beware of your decision ! 
Rouse not, I beseech you, a peace-loving but a resolute people 
— alienate not from your body the affections of a whole 
empire. 

As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my 
country, as the faithful servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to 
assist with your utmost efforts in preserving the peace and up- 
holding and perpetuating the constitution. Therefore I pray 
and I exhort you not to reject this measure. By all you hold 
most dear, by all the ties that bind every one of us to our 
common order and our common country, I solemnly adjure you 
— I warn you, I implore you — yea, on my bended knees, I 
supplicate you — reject not this bill ! Lord Brougham. 

30* X 



354 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



182.— THE HELMSMAN OF LAKE ERIE. 




EF.ES SARGENT. 



Bright through the mist of years, 
Foremost at memory's call, 
This would my answer be : 

in. 

John Maynard, he's the first — 
Here's to his fame ! 
He of the Ocean Queen, 
He of that fearful scene, 

Who out of smoke and flame 
On us a saviour burst ! 



Brave fellows in 
my day 
Have I beheld, 

Brave on the 
quarter-deck, 

Brave in the hour 
of wreck, 

Brave where no 
hope impelled 

And death be- 
fore them lay. 

ii. 
But if you ask 

of me 
Who of them 
all 
First to 
thought 
pears, 



my 
ap- 



IV. 



Crowded with passengers 
Was our good boat ; 



THE HELMSMAN OF LAKE ERIE. 355 

Crossing Lake Erie, we 
Hardly the shore could see 

When came that dreadful note 
(Which most the heart-blood stirs), 

v 
" Fire ! " and the captain cried, 

"See to it there! 
Wheel, ho ! Whose hand is on ? " 
" John Maynard's." " Steady, John ! 
East-south-east let her tear ! " 
" Ay, ay, sir ! " John replied. 

VI. 

John, a rough sailor lad, 
Why should he stay ? 
Thrust at by tongues of fire, 
There at his post expire ? 

" Fly, John, at once ! Away 

Where rescue may be had ! 

VII. 

" True, all to God, in thee, 

Look now for aid ; 
Trembling in view of death, 
Men, women, hold their breath ; 
But shall they safe be made 
Through thy deep agony ? " 

VIII. 

Swathed round with flame and smoke, 
John still held on ; 
" Only five minutes more, 
And we may jump ashore — 

Steady !" (the captain spoke). 
" Steady it is," said John. 



356 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

IX. 

" One minute longer, John, 

Can you remain ? " 

" Ay, with God's help I can," 

Quoth the lad, grown to man 

In that extreme of pain, 

His crown celestial on ! 

x. 

Up, on its wings of flame, 
Up drove the keel ; 
Up to the shelving beach, 
Out of the billows' reach, 

Where men could leap, and kneel, 
All with a glad acclaim. 

XI. 

" Saved ! All are saved ! " one cries, 

" Three hundred saved ! 
John Maynard — where is he ? 
Bring him forth ! Let us see 

Him who the fire-fiend braved ! " 
" Hush ! There in death he lies ! " 

Sargent. 

183.— ON THE GREEK QUESTION, 1824. 

Perhaps one of the prettiest themes for declamation ever 
presented to a deliberative assembly is this proposition in be- 
half of Greece. But, sir, I look at the measure as one fraught 
with deep and deadly danger to the best interests of the 
American people. Liberty and religion are objects as dear 
to my heart as to that of any gentleman in this or any other 
assembly. But, in the name of these holy words, by this pow- 
erful spell, is this nation to be conjured and persuaded out of 
the highway of Heaven — out of its present comparatively 
happy state — into ajl the disastrous conflicts arising from the 



ON THE GREEK QUESTION. 357 

policy of European powers, with all the consequences which 
flow from them ? 

Sir, I am afraid that along with some most excellent attri- 
butes and qualities — the love of liberty, jury trial, the writ of 
habeas corpus, and all the blessings of free government which 
we have derived from our Anglo-Saxon ancestors — we have 
got not a little of their John Bull, or rather bull-dog, spirit — 
their readiness to fight for anybody and on any occasion. Sir, 
England has been for centuries the game-cock of Europe. It 
is impossible to specify the wars in which she has been engaged 
for contrary purposes, and she will, with great pleasure, see 
us take off her shoulders the labor of preserving the balance 
of power. We find her fighting now for the queen of Hun- 
gary; then, for her inveterate foe, the king of Prussia; now 
at war for the restoration of the Bourbons, and now on the 
eve of war with thern for the liberties of Spain. 

If we pursue the same policy, we must travel the same road 
and endure the same burdens under which England now 
groans. But, glorious as such a design might be, a President 
of the United States would, in my apprehension, occupy a 
prouder place in history, who, when he retires from officej can 
say to the people who elected him, " I leave you without a 
debt," than if he had fought as many pitched battles as Csesar, 
or achieved as many naval victories as Nelson. 

And what, sir, is debt ? In an individual it is slavery — it 
is slavery of the worst sort, surpassing that of the West India 
Islands, for it enslaves the mind as well as the body ; and the 
creature who can be abject enough to incur and to submit to 
it receives in that condition of his being an adequate punish- 
ment. Of course, I speak of debt with the exception of un- 
avoidable misfortune. I speak of debt caused by mismanage- 
ment, by unwarrantable generosity, by being generous before 
being just. I know that this sentiment was ridiculed by 
Sheridan, whose lamentable end was the best commentary 
upon its truth. 

No, sir ; let us abandon these projects. Let us say to these 
seven millions of Greeks, " We defended ourselves when we 



358 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

were but three millions against a power in comparison to 
which the Turk is but as a lamb. Go, and do thou likewise." 

John Kandolph, 1773-1833. 



184.— THE CONTEST IN AMERICA. 

I cannot join with those who cry "Peace, peace! " I can- 
not wish that this war should not have been engaged in by 
the North, or that, being engaged in, it should be terminated 
on any conditions but such as would retain the whole of the 
territories as free soil. War in a good cause is not the great- 
est evil which a nation can suffer. War is an ugly thing, but 
not the ugliest of things : the decayed and degraded state of 
moral and patriotic feeling which thinks nothing worth a war 
is worse. 

When a people are used as mere human instruments for firing 
cannon or thrusting bayonets, in the service and for the selfish 
purposes of a master, such war degrades a people. A war to 
protect other human beings against tyrannical injustice, a 
war to give victory to their own ideas of right and good, and 
which is their own war, carried on for an honest purpose by 
their free choice, is often the means of their regeneration. 

A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, 
nothing which he cares more about than he does about his per- 
sonal safety, is a miserable creature, who has no chance of 
being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better 
men than himself. As long as justice and injustice have not 
terminated their ever-renewing fight for ascendency in the 
affairs of mankind, human beings must be willing, when need 
is, to do battle for the one against the other. 

I am far from saying that the present struggle on the part 
of the Northern Americans is wholly of this exalted charac- 
ter — that it has arrived at the stage of being altogether a war 
for justice, a war of principle. But there was from the be- 
ginning, and now is, a large infusion of that element in it ; and 
this is increasing, will increase, and, if the war lasts, will in 
the end predominate. Should that time come, not only will 



RELIGION OF REVOLUTIONARY MEN. 



359 



the greatest enormity which still exists among mankind as an 
institution receive far earlier its coup de grace than there has 
ever, until now, appeared any probability of; but in effecting 
this, the free States will have raised themselves to that elevated 
position in the scale of morality and dignity which is derived 
from great sacrifices consciously made in a virtuous cause, and 
the sense of an inestimable benefit to all future ages brought 
about by their own voluntary efforts. 

John Stuart Mill, 1806-1873. 



185.— RELIGION OF REVOLUTIONARY MEN. 

I know, and I sigh when I think of it, that hitherto the 
French people have been the least religious of all the nations 
of Europe. The great men of other countries live and die on the 
stage of history, 
looking up to 
Heaven. Our 
great men live 
and die looking 
at the spectator, 
or, at most, at 
posterity ! 

Open the his- 
tory of America, 
the history of 
England and 
the history of 
France. Wash- 
ington fought, 
spoke and suf- 
fered always in alphonse de lamartine. 
the name of God, for whom he acted ; and the liberator of 
America died confiding to God his own soul and the liberty 
of the people. Sidney, the undaunted martyr of a patriotism 
guilty of nothing but impatience, and who died to expiate his 




360 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

country's dream of liberty, said to his jailer, " I rejoice that I 
die innocent toward the king, but a victim resigned to the 
King on high, to whom all life is due." The republicans of 
Cromwell sought only the way of God, even through the blood 
of battles. 

But look at Mirabeau on the bed of death ! " Crown me 
with flowers," said he, " intoxicate me with perfumes. Let me 
die to the sound of delicious music !" Not a word of God or 
of his own soul ! Sensual philosopher, supreme sensualism was 
his last desire in his agony. Contemplate Madame Eoland, the 
strong-hearted woman of the Kevolution, on the cart that con- 
veyed her to death. Not a glance toward Heaven ! Only one 
word for the earth she was quitting : " O Liberty, what crimes 
in thy name are committed !" Approach the dungeon door of 
the Girondins. Their last night is a banquet, their only hymn 
the Marseillaise ! Hear Danton on the platform of the scaf- 
fold : " I have had a good time of it ; let me go to sleep." 
Then, to the executioner : " You will show my head to the ^ 
people ; it is worth the trouble ! " His faith, annihilation ; his 
last sigh, vanity ! 

Behold the Frenchman of this latter age ! What must one 
think of the religious sentiment of a free people, whose great 
figures seem thus to march in procession to annihilation, and 
to whom death itself recalls neither the threatenings nor the 
promises of God ! The republic of these men without a God 
was quickly stranded. The liberty, won by so much heroism 
and so much genius, did not find in France a conscience to 
shelter it, a God to avenge it, a people to defend it, against 
that atheism which was called glory. All ended in a soldier, 
and some apostate republicans travestied into courtiers. 

An atheistic republicanism cannot be heroic. When you 
terrify it, it yields. When you would buy it, it becomes venal. 
It would be very foolish to immolate itself. Who would give 
it credit for the sacrifice — the people ungrateful, and God 
non-existent ? So end atheistic revolutions ! 

Alphonse de Lamartine, 1792-1869. 



THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT. 361 

186.— THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT. 
Twas morn ; the rising splendor rolled 
On marble towers and roofs of gold ; 
Hall, court and gallery, below, 
Were crowded with a living flow ; 
Egyptian, Arab, Nubian there, 
The bearers of the bow and spear, 
The hoary priest, the Chaldee sage, 
The slave, the gemmed and glittering page — 
Helm, turban and tiara shone, 
A dazzling ring, round Pharaoh's throne. 

There came a man ; the human tide 
Shrank backward from his stately stride ; 
His cheek with storm and time was tanned, 
A shepherd's staff was in his hand. 
A shudder of instinctive fear 
Told the dark king what step was near ; 
• On through the host the stranger came, 
It parted round his form like flame. 

He stooped not at the footstool stone, 

He clasped not sandal, kissed not throne ; 

Erect he stood amid the ring, 

His only words, " Be just, O king ! " 

On Pharaoh's cheek the blood flushed high, 

A fire was in his sullen eye ; 

Yet on the chief of Israel 

No arrow of his thousands fell : 

All mute and moveless as the grave 

Stood chilled the satrap and the slave. 

" Thou'rt come," at length the monarch spoke ; 

Haughty and high the words outbroke : 
" Is Israel weary of its lair, 

The forehead peeled, the shoulder bare ? 

Take back the answer to your band : 

Go, reap the wind ; go, plow the sand ; 

31 



362 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Go, vilest of the living vile, 
To build the never-ending pile, 
Till, darkest of the nameless dead, 
The vulture on their flesh is fed ! 
What better asks the howling slave 
Than the base life our bounty gave ? " 

Shouted in pride the turbaned peers, 

Upclashed to Heaven the golden spears. 
" King, thou and thine are doomed ! Behold t " 

The prophet spoke — the thunder rolled ! 

Along the pathway of the sun 

Sailed vapory mountains, wild and dun. 
" Yet there is time," the prophet said ; 

He raised his staff — the storm was stayed. 
" King ! be the. word of freedom given ; 

What art thou, man, to war with Heaven ? " 

There came no word. The thunder broke. 
Like a huge city's final smoke, 
Thick, lurid, stifling, mixed with flame, 
Through court and hall the vapors came. 
Loose as the stubble in the field, 
Wide flew the men of spear and shield ; 
Scattered like foam along the wave, 
Flew the proud pageant, prince and slave ; 
Or, in the chains of terror bound, 
Lay, corpse-like, on the smouldering ground. 
" Speak, king ! — the wrath is but begun. 
Still dumb ? Then, Heaven, thy will be done. 

Echoed from earth a hollow roar, 
Like ocean on the midnight shore ; 
A sheet of lightning o'er them wheeled, 
The solid ground beneath them reeled ; 
In dust sank roof and battlement; 
Like webs the giant walls were rent ; 



THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT. 363 

Red, broad, before his startled gaze, 

The monarch saw his Egypt blaze. 

Still swelled the plague — the flame grew pale ; 

Burst from the clouds the charge of hail ; 

With arrowy keenness, iron weight, 

Down poured the ministers of fate ; 

Till man and cattle, crushed, congealed, 

Covered with death the boundless field. 

Still swelled the plague — uprose the blast, 
The avenger, fit to be the last ; 
On ocean, river, forest, vale, 
Thundered at once the mighty gale. 
Before the whirlwind flew the tree, 
Beneath the Avhirlwind roared the sea ; 
A thousand ships were on the wave : 
Where are they ? ask that foaming grave ! 
Down go the hope, the pride of years ; 
Down go the myriad mariners ; 
The riches of earth's richest zone, 
Gone ! like a flash of lightning, gone ! 

And, lo ! that first fierce triumph o'er, 
Swells ocean on the shrinking shore ; 
Still onward, onward, dark and wide, 
Engulfs the land the furious tide. 
Then bowed thy spirit, stubborn king, 
Thou serpent, reft of fang and sting ; 
Humbled before the prophet's knee, 
He groaned, "Be injured Israel free!" 

To heaven the sage upraised his wand ; 
Back rolled the deluge from the land ; 
Back to its caverns sank the gale ; 
Fled from the noon the vapors pale ; 
Broad burned again the joyous sun : 
The hour of wrath and death was done. 

Rev. George Croly, 1780-1862. 



364 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



187.— PEACE OUR POLICY. 

Our policy is peace. A kind Providence has cast our lot 
on a portion of the globe sufficiently vast to satisfy the most 
grasping ambition, and abounding beyond all others in re- 
sources which only require to be fully developed to make us the 
greatest and most prosperous people on earth. To the full de- 
velopment of these resources we have political institutions 
most happily adapted. 

As a friend to human improvement, to civilization, to prog- 
ress, I am opposed to war. Never in the history of the world 
has there occurred a period so remarkable as the present. The 
inventive genius of man has seized upon and subjugated two 
great agencies of the natural world which never before were 
made his servants — steam and electricity, under which I include 
magnetism in all its phenomena. We have been distinguished 
by Providence for a great and noble purpose, and I trust we 
shall fulfill our high destiny. 

Again, I am opposed to war, because I hold that it is now 
to be determined whether two such nations as the United 
States and England shall exist for the future as friends or 
enemies. A declaration of war by one of them against the 
other would be pregnant with miseries, not only to themselves, 
but to the world. Mighty means are now put into the hands 
of both, to cement and secure a perpetual peace, by breaking 
down the barriers of commerce, and uniting the two nations 
more closely in an intercourse mutually beneficial. If this 
shall be accomplished, other nations will, one after another, 
follow the fair example, and a state of general prosperity 
heretofore unknown will gradually imite and bless the people 
of the world. 

And, far more than all, an intercourse like this points to that 
inspiring day which philosophers have hoped for, which poets 
have seen in their bright dreams of fancy, and which prophecy 
has seen in holy vision — when men shall learn war no more. 
Who can contem'plate a state of the world like this, and not 
feel his heart exult at the prospect ? And who can doubt that, 



PEACE OUR POLICY. 365 

in the hand of an omnipotent Providence, a free and unre- 
stricted commerce shall prove one of the greatest agents in 
bringing it about ? 

Finally, I am against war, because peace — peace is pre-em- 
inently our policy. Our great mission as a people is to occupy 
this vast domain, there to level forests, and let in upon their 
solitude the light of day ; to clear swamps and morasses, and 
redeem them to the plow and the sickle ; to spread over hill 
and dale the echoes of human labor, and human happiness 
and contentment ; to fill the land with cities and towns ; to 
unite its opposite extremities by turnpikes and railroads ; to 
scoop out canals for the transmission of its products and open 
rivers for its internal trade. 

War can only impede the fulfillment of this high mission 
of Heaven ; it absorbs the wealth and diverts the energy which 
might be so much better devoted to the improvement of our 
country. All we want is peace — established peace ; and then 
time, under the guidance of a wise and cautious policy, will 
soon effect for us all the rest. Yes, time — ever-laboring time 
— will effect everything for us. Our population is now in- 
creasing at the annual average of six hundred thousand. Let 
the next twenty-five years elapse, and our increase will have 
reached a million a year, and at the end of that period we 
shall count a population of forty-five millions. Before that 
day it will have spread from ocean to ocean. The coasts of 
the Pacific will then be as densely populated and as thickly 
settled with villages and towns as is now the coast of the 
Atlantic. 

If we can preserve peace, who shall set bounds to ,our pros- 
perity or to our success ? With one foot planted on the At- 
lantic and the other on the Pacific, we shall occupy a position 
between the two old continents of the world — a position em- 
inently calculated to secure to us the commerce and the 
influence of both. If we abide by the counsels of common 
sense, if we succeed in preserving our constitutional liberty, we 
shall then exhibit a spectacle such as the world never saw. 

I know that this one great mission is encompassed with dif- 

31* 



366 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

ficulties ; but such is the inherent energy of our political sys- 
tem, and such its expansive capability, that it may be made to 
govern the widest space. If by war we become great, we can- 
not be free ; if we will be both great and free, our policy is 

peace. 

John C. Calhoun (see p. 267). 



188.— CATILINE TO THE GALLIC CONSPIRATORS. 

Men of Gaul ! 
What would you give for Free- 
dom — 
For Freedom, if it stood before 

your eyes ; 
For Freedom, if it rushed to 

your embrace ; 
For Freedom, if its sword were 

ready drawn 
To hew your chains off? 
Ye would give death or life ! 
Then marvel not 
That I am here — that Catiline would join you ! 
The great Patrician ? Yes, an hour ago, 
But now the rebel ; Rome's eternal foe, 
And your sworn friend ! My desperate wrong's my pledge. 
There's not in Rome — no, not upon the earth — 
A man so wronged. The very ground I tread 
Is grudged me. Chieftains ! ere the moon be down 
My land will be the Senate's spoil ; my life 
The mark of the first villain that will stab 
For lucre. But there's a time at hand ! Gaze on ! 

If I had thought you cowards, I might have come 
And told you lies. But you have now the thing 
I am — Rome's enemy — and fixed as fate 
To you and yours for ever ! 
The State is weak as dust. 
Rome is broken, helpless, heart-sick. Vengeance sits 




LABOR AND GENIUS. 367 



Above her, like a vulture o'er a corpse 
Soon to be tasted. Time and dull decay- 
Have let the waters round her pillar's foot, 
And it must fall. Her boasted strength's a ghost, 
Fearful to dastards, yet to trenchant swords 
Thin as the passing air ! A single blow, 
In this diseased and crumbling state of Rome, 
Would break your chains like stubble. 

But " ye've no swords!" 
Have you no plowshares, scythes ? 
When men are brave, the sickle is a spear ! 
Must Freedom pine till the slow armorer 
Gilds her caparison and sends her out 
To glitter and play antics in the sun ? 
Let hearts be what they ought, the naked earth 
Will be their magazine ; the rocks, the trees — 
Nay, there's no idle and unnoted thing 
But in the hand of Valor will out-thrust 
The spear, and make the mail a mockery ! 

George Croly, 1780-1862. 



189.— LABOR AND GENIUS. 

While I am descanting upon the conduct of the understand- 
ing and the best modes of acquiring knowledge, some men 
may be disposed to ask, " Why conduct my understanding with 
such endless care ? and what is the use of so much knowledge? " 
What is the use of so much knowledge ? What is the use of 
so much life ? what are we to do with the seventy years of 
existence allotted to us ? and how are we to live them out to 
the last ? 

I solemnly declare that, but for the love of knowledge, I 
should consider the life of the meanest hedger and ditcher as 
preferable to that of the greatest and richest man in existence ; 
for the fire of our minds is like the fire which the Persians 
burn in the mountains — it flames night and day, and is im- 
mortal and not to be quenched ! Upon something it must act 



368 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

and feed — upon the pure spirit of knowledge or upon the foul 
dregs of polluting passions. 

Therefore, when I say, in conducting your understanding, 
love knowledge with a great love, with a vehement love, with 
a love coeval with life, what do I say, but love innocence ; love 
virtue ; love purity of conduct ; love that which, if you are 
rich and great, will sanctify the blind fortune which has made 
you so, and make men call it justice ; love that which, if you 
are poor, will render your poverty respectable, and make the 
proudest feel it unjust to laugh at the meanness of your for- 
tune ; love that which will comfort you, adorn you and never 
quit you — which will open to you the kingdom of thought, 
and all the boundless regions of conception, as an asylum 
against the cruelty, the injustice and the pain that may be 
your lot in the outer world — that which will make your mo- 
tives habitually great and honorable, and light up in an instant 
a thousand noble disdains at the very thought of meanness 
and of fraud ! 

Therefore, if any young man here have embarked his life 
in pursuit of knowledge, let him go on without doubting or 
fearing the event ; let him not be intimidated by the cheerless 
beginnings of knowledge, by the darkness from which she 
springs, by the difficulties which hover around her, by the 
wretched habitations in which she dwells, by the want and 
sorrow which sometimes journey in her train ; but let him ever 
follow her as the angel that guards him, and as the genius of 
his life. She will bring him out at last into the light of day, 
and exhibit him to the world, comprehensive in acquirements, 
fertile in resources, rich in imagination, strong in reasoning, 
prudent and powerful above his fellows in all the relations and 
in all the offices of life. 

" What is a man, 

If his chief good and market of his time 

Be but to sleep and feed ? a beast, no more ! 

Sure He that made us with such large discourse, 

Looking before and after, gave us not 

That capability and Godlike reason 

To rust in us unused !" Sydney Smith (see p. 303). 



THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 



369 



190.— THE BRIDGE OP SIGHS. 

Rash and undutiful ; 
Past all dishonor, 
Death has left on her 

Only the beautiful. 

Still, for all slips of hers, 
One of Eve's family ; 

Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
Oozing so clammily. 

Loop up her tresses 

Escaped from the comb — 

Her fair auburn tresses ; 

Whilst wonderment guesses, 
Where was her home? 




Oxe more unfortunate, 

Weary of breath, 
Eashly importunate, 

Gone to her death ! 

Take her up tenderly, 

Lift her with care ; 
Fashioned so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair ! 

Look at her garments, 
Clinging like cerements, 

Whilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing ; 

Take her up instantly, 
Loving, not loathing. 

Touch her not scornfully, 
Think of her mournfully, 

Gently and humanly ; 
Not of the stains of her : 
All that remains of her 

Now is pure womanly. 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny 



Who was her father ? 

Who was her mother ? 

Had she a sister ? 

Had she a brother ? 

Or was there a dearer one 
Still, and a nearer one 

Yet, than all other? 

Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 

Under the sun ! 
Oh, it was pitiful ! 
Near a whole city full, 

Home she had none. 

Sisterly, brotherly, 
Fatherly, motherly, 

Feelings were changed ; 
Love, by harsh evidence, 
Thrown from its eminence 
Even God's providence 

Seeming estranged. 

Where the lamps quiver 
So far in the river, 



370 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



With many a light 
From window and casement, 
From garret to basement, 
She stood, with amazement, 

Houseless by night. 

The bleak winds of March 

Made her tremble and shiver ; 
But not the dark arch, 

Or the black flowing river ; 
Mad from life's history, 
Glad to death's mystery 

Swift to be hurled — 
Anywhere, anywhere 

Out of the world ! 

In she plunged boldly, 
No matter how coldly 

The rough river ran ; 
Over the brink of it, 
Picture it, think of it, 

Dissolute man ! 
Lave in it, drink of it, 

Then, if you can ! 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care : 



Fashioned so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair ! 
Ere her limbs frigidly 
Stiffen so rigidly, 

Decently, kindly, 
Smooth and compose them ; 
And her eyes, close them, 

Staring so blindly ! 

Dreadfully staring 

Through muddy impurity, 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 

Fixed on futurity. " 

Perishing gloomily, 
Spurred by contumely, 
Cold inhumanity, 
Burning insanity, 

Into her rest ! 
Cross her hands humbly, 
As if praying dumbly, 

Over her breast ! 
Owning her weakness, 

Her evil behavior, 
And leaving with meekness 

Her sins to her Saviour. 
Thomas Hood, 1798-1845. 



191— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP. 

Hawksley. A thousand pardons, my dear fellow ; one gets 
so absorbed in these figures ! Take a chair. You'll allow me 
to finish what I was about. 

Mildmay. Don't mind me. I'm in no hurry. 

Hawk By the way, if you'll look on that table, you'll find 
a plan of our In explosive Galvanic Boat somewhere. Just 
glance your eye over it, while I knock off this calculation ; it 
will give you an idea of the machinery. ( After a minute or 



STILL WATERS BUN DEEP. 371 

two of pretended work, putting away his papers and risiyig.) 
And now, my dear Mildmay, I am at your service. But before 
we come to business, how are all at Brompton ? The ladies 
all well? 

Mild. Mrs. Sternhold's a little out of sorts this morning. 

Hawk. Ah ! Had a bad night? 

Mild. I should think so. 

Hawk. Well, I had a note from Potter. He tells me you 
had some thoughts of taking shares in our Galvanics. I've 
mislaid his note, but he mentioned your wanting something 
like two hundred shares — wasn't it ? 

Mild. I beg your pardon ; not exactly, I think. 

Hawk. Why, wasn't that the figure you put it at yourself 
last night ? 

Mild. Last night — yes. 

Hawk. You haven't changed your mind ? 

Mild. No. 

Hawk. Then let us understand one another. Do you want 
more than two hundred, or fewer ? 

Mild. Neither more nor fewer. 

Hawk. What do you mean ? 

Mild. I mean I don't want any at all. 

Hawk. Indeed ! You surprise me. I suppose you've slept 
upon it. 

Mild. Exactly. I have slept upon it. 

Hawk. Perhaps Mrs. Sternhold's advice may have had 
something to do with your sudden change of intention ? 

Mild. Mrs. Sternhold knows nothing of my sudden change 
of intention. 

Hawk. Well, as you don't know your own mind for four 
and twenty hours together, there's nothing more to be said. 
But as you don't want these shares, may I ask what has pro- 
cured me the pleasure of seeing you this morning ? 

Mild. Certainly. I had two objects in coming. In the 
first place, about two months ago my father-in-law, Mr. Potter, 
took twenty shares in your company. Those shares have come 
into my hands this morning, by Mr. Potter's indorsement. 



372 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Now, as I don't care about them myself, and as there seems 
such a rush for them in the market, I suppose you'll have no 
objection to take them off my hands at par. 

Hawk. Eh ! Take them off your hands at par ? Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! Upon my word, that's rather too good ! My dear Mr. 
Mildmay, I know you're the most amiable of men, but I had 
no idea how great you were at a practical joke. 

Mild. Very well. We'll drop the shares for the present, 
and come to motive number two. 

Hawk. Pray do ; and if it's better fun than motive number 
one, I shall have to thank you for two of the heartiest laughs 
I've enjoyed for many a day. 

Mild. We shall see. You have in your possession thirteen 
letters, addressed to you by Mrs. Sternhold. The second mo- 
tive for my visit was to ask you to give up those letters. Do 
I make myself understood ? 

Hawk. (Aside.) So ! the murder's out ! She prefers war ! 
She shall have it. ( Aloud.) Mr. John Mildmay, your first 
demand was a good joke. I laughed at it accordingly. But 
your second you may find no joke, and I would recommend 
you to be careful how you persist in executing this commis- 
sion of Mrs. Sternhold. 

Mild. I beg your pardon. I have no commission from Mrs. 
Sternhold. 

Hawk. It was not she who told you of those letters ? 

Mild. Certainly not. 

Hawk. Who did? 

Mild. You must excuse my answering this question. 

Hawk. Then you are acting now on your own respon- 
sibility? 

Mild. Entirely. 

Hawk. Very well ; then this is my answer : Though you 
have married Mrs. Sternhold's niece, I do not admit your 
right to interfere, without authority from Mrs. Sternhold her- 
self, in an affair in which she alone is interested. I refuse to 
give up her letters. As to your first request, my business is to 
sell shares, not to buy them. 



STILL WATERS RUN DEEP. 373 

Mild. I was prepared for both refusals, so I have taken my 
measures for compelling you to grant both demands. 

Haivk. Indeed ! you have ? Do let me hear what they are. 
I am all impatience to know how you propose to make Harry 
Hawksley say yes, when he has begun by saying no. 

Mild. When you explained to me, a little while ago, the 
theory of your speculation, you thought you were speaking to 
a greenhorn in such matters. You were under a mistake. 
Some four years ago I was a partner in a house in the city 
which did a good deal in discounting paper — the house of 
Dalrymple Brothers, in Broad street. You may have heard 
of it. One day — it was the 30th of April, 1850 — a bill was 
presented for payment at our counting-house, purporting to be 
drawn on us by our correspondents, Watson & Wright, of 
Buenos Ayres. Though we had no advices of it, it was paid 
at once, for it seemed all regular and right ; but it turned 
out to be a forgery. Our correspondents' suspicions fell at 
once upon a clerk who had just been dismissed from their em- 
ployment for some errors in his accounts. His name then was 
Burgess. The body of the bill was apparently in the same 
handwriting as the signature of the firm, but a careful exam- 
ination showed it to be that of the discharged clerk, and in a 
blotting-book left accidentally behind him were found various 
tracings of the signature of the firm. The detectives were at 
once put on his track, but he had disappeared, and no trace of 
him could ever be discovered. Well, this money was repaid and 
the affair forgotten. It so happened that when the bill was 
presented for payment only one person was in the counting- 
house — the clerk who paid the money, and who is since dead. 
But in the private room of the firm, which was separated from 
the counting-house by a glazed door, was the junior partner, 
who, through the door, saw the bill presented and observed 
the face of the person who presented it. I was that junior 
partner. The person who presented the bill — Burgess, as he 
was then called — the forger, was you. 

Hawk. It is an infamous calumny, an abominable lie ! Your 
life shall answer for this insult. 

32 



374 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Mild. I don't think that, quite. But allow me to conclude. 
How you have passed your time since that 30th of April, 1850, 
I have not the advantage of knowing ; but I know that soon 
after my marriage and retirement from business I met you as 
a visitor at my father-in-law's house. I have a wonderful me- 
mory for faces ; I remembered yours at once. 

Hawk. It is a lie, I tell you. 

Mild. No, it isn't. I resolved not to speak till I could back 
my words by proofs. I applied to my late partners for the 
forged bill. One of them was dead, the other absent in South 
America, so that for ten months I found myself obliged to re- 
ceive as a guest at my own table, as the intimate and trusted 
friend of my wife's family, a person whom I knew to be a 
swindler and a forger. The letter I had been so long waiting 
for, containing the forged bill, arrived yesterday. That bill is 
in my pocket. If I do not deliver it into your hands before I 
leave the room, it goes at once into those of the nearest police 
magistrate. 

Hawk. {After a pause, gloomily.) What are your terms ? 

Mild. The price of those shares at par, and Mrs. Sternhold's 
letters. 

Hawk. Here's the money. 

Mild. You'll excuse my counting. It is a mercantile habit 
I learned in the house of Dalrymple Brothers. Quite correct. 
Here are the scrip certificates. And now, if you please, the 
letters. 

Hawk. Here they are. 

Mild. You'll excuse my counting them, too. Thirteen, ex- 
actly ! Here is the forged bill. And now, Captain Burgess — 
I mean Hawksley — I have the honor to wish you a very good 
morning. 

Tom Taylor. 




THE BRITISH SLAVE-TRADE. 



375 



192.— THE BRITISH SLAVE-TRADE, 1792. 

Why ought the slave-trade to be abolished ? Because it is 
incurable injustice. How much stronger, then, is the argu- 
ment for immediate than gradual abolition ! By allowing it 
to continue even 
for one hour, do 
not my right 
honorable 
friends weaken, 
do they not de- 
sert, their own 
argument of its 
injustice? If, on 
the ground of in- 
justice, it ought 
to be abolished 
at last, why not 
now? Why is in- 
justice to be suf- 
fered to remain 
a single hour ? 

From what I 
hear without doors, it is evident that there is a general con- 
viction entertained of its being far from just, and from that 
very conviction of its. injustice some men have been led, I fear, 
to the supposition that the slave-trade never could have been 
permitted to begin but from some strong and irresistible neces- 
sity — a necessity, however, which, if it was fancied to exist at 
first, I have shown cannot be thought by any man whatever 
to exist now. 

This plea of necessity thus presumed, and presumed, as I 
suspect, from the circumstance of injustice itself, has caused a 
sort of acquiescence in the continuance of this evil. Men have 
been led to place it among the rank of those necessary evils 
which are supposed to be the lot of human creatures, and to 
be permitted to fall upon some countries or individuals rather 




WILLIAM PITT. 



376 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

than upon others, by that Being whose ways are inscrutable to 
us, and whose dispensations, it is conceived, we ought not to 
look into. 

The origin of evil is indeed a subject beyond the reach of the 
human understanding, and the permission of it by the supreme 
Being is a subject into which it belongs not to us at present 
to inquire. But where the evil in question is a moral evil, 
which a man can scrutinize, and where that evil has its origin 
with ourselves, let us not imagine that we can clear our con- 
sciences by this general, not to say irreligious and impious, 
way of laying aside the question. 

If we reflect at all on the subject, we must see that every 
necessary evil supposes that some other and greater evil would 
be incurred were it removed ; I, therefore, desire to ask, What 
can be a greater evil which can be stated to overbalance the 
one in question ? I know of no evil that ever has existed, 
nor can imagine any evil to exist, worse than the tearing of 
seventy or eighty thousand persons annually from their native 
land by a combination of the most civilized nations, inhabiting 
the most enlightened quarter of the globe, but more especial- 
ly under the sanction of the laws of that nation which calls 
herself the most free and the most happy of them all ! 

William Pitt (see p. 306). 



193.— CARCASSONNE.* 

" I'm growing old, I've sixty years ; 

I've labored all my life in vain ; 
In all that time of hopes and fears 

I've failed my dearest wish to gain. 
I see full well that here below 

Bliss unalloyed there is for none. 
My prayer would else fulfillment know — 

* Carcassonne, an old manufacturing city of France, 53 miles S. of 
Toulouse, and having a population of 15,380. In the time of Caesar it was 
a city of considerable note. It is the seat of a bishopric. 



CARCASSONNE. 377 



Never have I seen Carcassonne. 
Never have I seen Carcassonne ! 

" You spy the city from the hill — 

It lies beyond the mountain blue ; 
And yet to reach it one must still 

Five long and weary leagues pursue, 
And to return as many more ! 

Had but the vintage plenteous grown ! 
But, ah ! the grape withheld its store ! 

I shall not look on Carcassonne. 

I shall not look on Carcassonne ! 

" They tell me every day is there 

Not more or less than Sunday gay ; 
In shining robes and garments fair 

The people walk upon their way. 
One gazes there on castle walls 

As grand as those of Babylon, 
A bishop and two generals ! 

What joy to dwell in Carcassonne ! 

Ah ! might I but see Carcassonne ! 

" The vicar's right : he says that we 

Are ever wayward, weak and blind ; 
He tells us in his homily 

Ambition ruins all mankind ; 
Yet could I there two days have spent, 

While still the autumn sweetly shone, 
Ah, me ! I might have died content 

When I had looked on Carcassonne. 

When I had looked on Carcassonne ! 

" Thy pardon, Father, I beseech, 
In this my prayer if I offend ; 

One something sees beyond his reach 
From childhood to his journey's end. 

My wife, our little boy Aignan, 

32* 



378 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Have traveled even to Narbonne ; 
My grandchild has seen Perpignan. 
And I have not seen Carcassonne. 
And I have not seen Carcassonne." 

So crooned, one day, close by Limoux, 

A peasant, double-bent with age. 
" Rise up, my friend," said I ; " with you 

I'll go upon this pilgrimage." 
We left next morning his abode, 

But (Heaven forgive him !) halfway on 
The old man died upon the road ; 

He never gazed on Carcassonne. 

Each mortal has his Carcassonne ! 
Gustave Nadaud (translated by John R. Thompson). 



194.— THE CONSTITUTION A PERMANENCY. 

The Constitution of the United States creates direct rela- 
tions between this government and individuals. This govern- 
ment may punish individuals for treason and all other crimes 
in the code when committed against the United States. It 
has power also to tax individuals, in any mode and to any ex- 
tent ; and it possesses the further power of demanding from 
individuals military service. Nothing, certainly, can more 
clearly distinguish a government from a confederation of 
states than the possession of these powers. No closer relations 
can exist between individuals and any government. 

The state constitutions are established by the people of the 
states. This Constitution is established by the people of all 
the states. How, then, can a state secede ? How can a state 
undo what the whole people have done ? How can she ab- 
solve her citizens from their obedience to the laws of the 
United States ? How can she annul their obligations and 



THE CONSTITUTION A PERMANENCY. 379 

oaths? How can the members of her legislature renounce 
their own oath ? * 

Sir, secession, as a revolutionary right, is intelligible ; as a 
right to be proclaimed in the midst of civil commotions and 
asserted at the head of armies, I can understand it. But as 
a practical right, existing under the Constitution, and in con- 
formity with its provisions, it seems to me to be nothing but a 
plain absurdity; for it supposes resistance to government, 
under the authority of government itself; it supposes dismem- 
berment, without violating the principles of union ; it supposes 
opposition to law, without crime ; it supposes the violation of 
oaths, without responsibility ; it supposes the total overthrow 
of government, without revolution. 

The Constitution regards itself as perpetual and immortal. 
It seeks to establish a union among the people of the states 
which shall last through all time. Or if the common fate of 
things human must be expected at some period to happen, yet 
that catastrophe is not anticipated. The instrument contains 
ample provisions for its amendment at all times ; none for its 
abandonment at any time. It declares that new states may 
come into the Union, but it does not declare that old states 
may go out. 

The Union is not a temporary partnership of states. It is 
the association of the people under a Constitution of govern- 
ment, uniting their power, joining together their highest inter- 
ests, cementing their present enjoyments, and blending, in one 
indivisible mass, all their hopes for the future. Whatsoever 
is steadfast in just political principles, whatsoever is perma- 
nent in the structure of human society, whatsoever there is 
which can derive an enduring character from being founded 
on deep-laid principles of constitutional liberty and on the 
broad foundation of the public will, — all these unite to enti- 
tle this instrument to be regarded as a permanent consti- 
tution OF GOVERNMENT. 

Daniel Webster (see p. 240). 

* Their oath to support the Constitution of the United States. 



380 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




XONGFEIiLOW. 



195.— PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. 
Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
Of that midnight ride of Paul Revere, 
On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five. 
Hardly a man is now alive 
Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend, "If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night, 
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch 
Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light — 
One if by land, and two if by sea ; 
And I on the opposite shore will be, 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every Middlesex village and farm, 
For the country-folk to be up and to arm." 

Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar 
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 
Just as the moon rose over the bay, 
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay 



PAUL REVERE' S RIDE. 381 

The Somerset, British man-of-war ; 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 

Across the moon like a prison-bar, 

And a huge black hulk that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack-door, 
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the church, 
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 
To the belfry-chamber overhead, 
And startled the pigeons from their perch 
On the sombre rafters, that round him made 
Masses and moving shapes of shade — 
Up the light ladder, slender and tall, 
To the highest window in the wall, 
Where he paused to listen and look down 
A moment on the roofs of the quiet town, 
And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 
Now he patted his horse's side, 
Now gazed on the landscape far and near, 
Then impetuous stamped the earth, 
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth ; 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry tower of the old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill, 
Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still. 



382 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

And, lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height, 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light ! 
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns ! 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 

Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet : 

That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light, 

The fate of a nation was riding that night ; 

And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight 

Kindled the land into flame by its heat. 

It was twelve by the village clock 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford-town. 

He heard the crowing of the cock, 

And the barking of the farmer's dog, 

And felt the damp of the river fog, 

That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock 

When he rode into Lexington. 

He saw the gilded weather-cock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, 

Gaze at him with a spectral glare, 

As if they already stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds among the trees, 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 

Blowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall, 



THE SPIRIT OF INTOLERANCE. 383 

Who that day would be lying dead, 
Pierced by a British musket-ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read 
How the British regulars fired and fled — 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball 
From behind each fence and farmyard wall, 
Chasing the red-coats down the lane, 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Kevere ; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm — 

A cry of defiance, and not of fear — 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo for evermore ! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last, 

In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, 

And the midnight message of Paul Kevere. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



196.— THE SPIRIT OF INTOLERANCE. 

It is very difficult to make the mass of mankind believe 
that the state of things is ever to be otherwise than they have 
been accustomed to see it. I have very often heard old 
persons describe the impossibility of making any one believe 
that the American Colonies could ever be separated from this 
country. It was always considered as an idle dream of dis- 
contented politicians, good enough to fill up the periods of a 
speech, but which no practical man, devoid of the spirit of 
party, considered to be within the limits of possibility. 

There was a period when the slightest concession would 



384 OXFORD'S SENIOB SPEAKER. 

have satisfied the Americans ; but all the world was in heroics. 
One set of gentlemen met at the Lamb and another at the 
Lion — blood and treasure men, breathing war, vengeance and 
contempt — and in eight years afterward an awkward-looking 
gentleman in plain clothes walked up to the drawing-room of 
St. James's, in the midst of the gentlemen of the Lion and the 
Lamb, and was introduced as the ambassador from the United 
States of America !■ 

Mild and genteel people do not like the idea of persecution, 
and are advocates for toleration, but then they think it no 
act of intolerance to deprive Catholics of political power. The 
history of all this is that all men secretly like to punish 
others for not being of the same opinion with themselves, and 
that this sort of privation is the only species of persecution of 
which the improved feeling and advanced cultivation of the 
age will admit. Fire and fagot, chains and stone walls, have 
been clamored away ; nothing remains but to mortify a man's 
pride, and to limit his resources, and to set a mark upon him by 
cutting him off from his fair share of political power. By this 
receipt insolence is gratified and humanity is not shocked. 

The gentlest Protestant can see, with dry eyes, Lord Stour- 
ton excluded from Parliament, though he would abominate the 
most distant idea of personal cruelty to Mr. Petre. This is 
only to say that he lives in the nineteenth instead of the six- 
teenth century, and that he is as intolerant in religious matters 
as the state of manners existing in his age will permit. 

Is it not the same spirit which wounds the pride of a fellow- 
creature on account of his faith, or which casts his body into 
the flames ? Are they anything else but degrees and modifica- 
tions of the same principle ? The true spirit is to search after 
God and for another life with lowliness of heart ; to fling down 
no man's altar, to punish no man's prayer ; to heap no penal- 
ties and no pains on those solemn supplications which, in divers 
tongues, and in varied forms, and in temples of a thousand 
shapes, but with one deep sense of human dependence, men 
pour forth to God. 

Rev. Sydney Smith (see p. 303). 



THE KING OF THULE. 



385 




197.— THE KING OF THULE. 

In Thu'le dwelt a king, and he was leal even to the grave ; 
A cup to him of the red, red gold his true love dying gave : 
He drained it to the dregs whene'er he drank amid his peers, 
And ever as he quaffed from it his eyes would brim with tears. 
And when his end drew nigh, he told his kingdom's cities up, 
Gave all his wealth unto his heir, but with it not the cup. 
He sat and feasted at the board ; among his knights sat he, 
Within the castle of his sires, the castle by the sea. 
Then up he rose, one draught he took, a long last breath he drew, 
And down the cup he loved so well into the ocean threw. 
He watched it flashing, filling and sinking beneath the sea, 
And then his eyes were darkened, and never again drank he. 

Goethe, 1749-1832. 

33 



386 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

198.— THE TJNFORGOTTEN FOE. 
Chabacters. — Maro, a banished Roman ; Paulus, a Christian. 

Enter Maro. 

Maro. Alone, in this impenetrable forest ! 
What ho ! What ho ! My voice is hoarse with shouting. 
No answer comes, save from some startled bird. 
[ Calls.'] Ho ! Hear me ! Hear me ! 
Hark ! A crackling bough ! 
A human footstep ! Yes ; relief is nigh ! 

Enter Paulus. 

Oh, welcome, stranger, whosoe'er thou art ! 
For I am lost in these bewildering thickets. 
Most timely is thy coming. 

Paulus. And who art thou ? 

Maro. A Koman ; once in power, now an exile, 
A wretched outcast, plundered and forsaken. 

Paul. If thou art wretched and an exile, welcome ! 
I claim thee as a brother ; and my heart 
Throws open all its doors to take thee in. [Gives his hana\ 
then starts and looks distrustfully at Maro.] 

Maro. Thou shalt not find me poor in gratitude, 
Though otherwise a beggar. Is there not 
Some place of refuge near us ? 

Paul. On the border 
Of this thick wood, I, with my wife and children, 
Have my poor hut. I will not call it house. 

Maro. How happens it a person of thy speech 
Can in a wild like this content himself, 
Far from the guardianship and pomp of Home ? 

Paul. The guardianship of Home! The guardianship! 
Man, to Home's fatal guardianship I owe 
The massacre of kindred and of friends; 
Of father, mother, brothers, butchered — butchered 
All in cold blood ! And oh, for what ? 



THE UNFORGOTTEN FOE. 387 

Maro. How? Butchered? 
When was it ? Where ? 

Paul. Ten years ago, in Rome ! 
[ Aside.'] Oh, last of all shouldst thou be ignorant ! 
Yes, it is he, — none other. 

Maro. Butchered by whom ? 

Paul. By thee ! by thee ! Thou art the man ! thou, Maro ! 
The unjust judge, the craven magistrate, 
Creature of Nero, agent of his fell, 
His fiendish cruelties ! Thou art the man ! 
For what — for what was all that wealth of blood, 
Of pure and innocent blood, poured out like water ? 
Because it ran in Christian veins ! 

Maro. Thou ravest ! 
Thou hast mistaken me for some one else. 
I will depart. [ Going.'] 

Paul. Not yet. Thy cowering glance 
And trembling knees belie thy faltering words. 
Though I may be forgot, thou rt not forgot. 
Dost thou recall not that eventful day, 
In the great amphitheatre, when first 
Thou wert informed the famous Libyan lion, 
The emperor's favorite, that dreadful beast 
Which thou hadst ordered out to tear in pieces 
A white-haired man, Serenus Claudianus 
(My father !), had been slain ? 
Dost thou recall thy rage against the slayer ? 
Thou dost ! I slew the beast ! Vain all disguise. 
Thy brows are knit, thy teeth gnaw at thy lip 
In impotent renewal of thy anger. 

Maro. Nay — how didst thou escape ? 

Paul. Ah ha ! thy words, 
Thy very words betray thee ! I escaped : 
I'll tell thee how. The man thou didst most trust 
Became a Christian. 

Maro. He ! Servilius Dorso ! 
Betrayed by him ? by him ? 



388 OXFORD'S SENIOB SPEAKER. 

Paul. Dost thou regret, even in retrospection, 
The relish of a disappointed vengeance? 
Why do thy fingers work so ? Ah ! thou wouldst, 
But durst not ! 

Maro. Nay, I am not what I was. 

Paul. What canst thou do ? 
What are thy limbs and sinews 

Compared with these, that have been trained and tested 
In wrestling with wild nature for my food, 
With the fierce bear for life, or with the gale 
Upon the lake for safety ? 

Maro. Do not abuse thy power ! Forgive — forgive me ! 

Paul. Forgive thee ? Oh, have I not often reveled 
In the anticipation of a moment 
Like this one now, when I could have thee thus, 
With no one by, when I could grasp thee thus — 
Thus — thus by the throat, and shout into thy ear, 
Kemember old Serenus ! 

Maro. Mercy! 

Paul. Mercy? 
Ay ! even such mercy as thou didst show, abhorred one ! 
Show to that gray-haired man, his kneeling wife, 
And his imploring children ! 
The ouly answer to their prayer was death ! 
Not a swift, easy death, but one of torture, 
Of horror — in the amphitheatre — 
Torn by wild beasts ! Dost thou dare plead for mercy ? 

Maro [on his knees']. As thou'rt a man, be merciful ! 

Paul. That plea 
Will not avail. 

Maro. Ah, then, as thou'rt a Christian ! 

[A pause, during which Paulus gently and gradually releases his hold, and 
Maro rises.] 

Paul. And dost thou venture to pronounce that name — 
The sacred name, by thee so spurned and hated ? 
I thank thee for it, Maro ! Ay, I thank thee. 



THE UNFORGOTTEN FOE. 389 

The old, the heathen spirit, had possessed me, 
And driven out the very grace of Christ ! 
Thou hast recalled me to my better self. 
The pent-up vengeance all explodes in words. 
Bloody oppressor, diligent murderer 
And persecutor of all Christian men, 
As thou hast been — 
Still, do not fear ! Thou'rt safe — 
Thou'rt safe ! 

Maro. Thanks! thanks! [Going.] 

Paul. Why, whither wouldst thou go ? 

Maro. To find a shelter for the night. 

Paul. To perish ! s 

Here ! Come with me, and thou shalt have a bed 
In my poor hut, with food, and warmth, and safety. 
Wilt thou not trust me ? 

Maro. Oh, thy wrongs have been 
Too deadly for forgiveness ! 

Paul. Knowest thou not, 
The Christian, if a Christian, must forgive, 
As he would be forgiven by the Father ? 

Maro. But here forgiveness fails. I blame thee not ; 
For now, in this majestic solitude, 
My crimes start up between me and all hope 
In their true outline — hideous, grim, unearthly. 
I know it is not in the heart of man, 
Where such wrongs cry aloud, to cast out vengeance. 

Paul. " Vengeance is mine ! I will repay, saith the Lord !" 
I do forgive thee, Maro — I have said it. 
The Christian's act shall tell thee what his faith is. 
Not the dear child who hangs about my neck 
And calls me father shall more tenderly 
Be cared for and protected from all danger 
Than thou, if thou wilt come and be my guest. 
Dost thou believe me ? 

Maro [covering his face]. Ay ! I cannot help it. 
The power must be divine that works a change 

33* 



390 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



In thee, in me, like this ! My soul is flooded 

With sudden light ! Celestial guards environ ! 

I see, as in a vision, coming down, 

The beauty and the sanctity of mercy ; 

The truth of God and immortality ; 

The might and glory of that law of love, 

That supreme law, eternal, absolute, 

Which bade thee crush this proud and stony heart, 

Melt and remould it, with forgiving words. 

Oh that I could blot out the hateful past ! 

Oh that I might cast off that weight of sin ! 

Paul. This is no fitful mood. 
'Tis Christ's own hand has led thee here, my brother ; 
And from that hand, with awe, do I accept thee. 
Do not despair ! There's balm for thee in Gilead. 
Hereafter, should I waver in my kindness, 
Utter again that plea : " As thou'rt a Christian ! " {Exeunt. 

Sargent. 



199.— A PLEA FOR DUNCES. 

Let us people who are so 
uncommonly clever and learned 
have a great tenderness and pity 
for the poor folks who are not 
endowed with the prodigious tal- 
ents which we possess. I have 
always had a regard for dunces ; 
those of my own school-days were 
amongst the pleasantest of the 
fellows, and have turned out by 
no means the dullest in life; 
whereas many a youth who 
could turn off Latin hexameters 
by the yard, and construe Greek quite glibly, is no better than 




THACKERAY. 



A PLEA FOB DUNCES. 391 

a feeble prig now, with not a pennyworth more brains than 
were in his head before his beard grew. 

Master Hulker, at Dr. Birch's, is the most honest, kind, 
active, plucky creature. He can do many things better than 
most boys. He can go up a tree, jump, play at cricket, drive 
and swim perfectly, he can eat twice as much as almost any- 
body (as Miss Birch well knows), he has a pretty talent of 
carving figures with his hack-knife, he makes and paints little 
coaches, he can take a watch to pieces and put it together 
again. He can do everything but learn his lessons, and there 
he sticks at the bottom of the school, hopeless. As the little 
boys are drafted from Miss Baby's class (it is true she is one 
of the best instructresses in the world), they enter and hop over 
poor Hulker. He would be handed over to the governess, 
only he is too big. 

. If you could see his grammar ! It is a perfect curiosity of 
dog's ears. The leaves and cover are all curled and ragged. 
Many of the pages are worn away with the rubbing of his 
elbows, as he sits poring over the hopeless volume, or with the 
blows of his fists as he thumps it madly, or with the poor 
fellow's tears. You see him wipiug them away with the back 
of his hand as he tries and can't do it. The doctor has 
operated upon Hulker (between ourselves), but the boy was 
so little affected you would have thought he had taken chloro- 
form. Birch is weary of whipping now, and leaves the boy 
to go his own gait. 

Prince, when he hears the lesson, adopts the sarcastic man- 
ner with Master Hulker, and says, " Mr. Hulker, may I take 
the liberty to inquire if your brilliant intellect has enabled you 
to perceive the difference between those words which gram- 
marians have defined as substantive and adjective nouns? 
If not, perhaps Mr. Ferdinand Timmins will instruct you." 
And Timmins easily hops over Hulker's head. I wish Prince 
would leave off girding at the poor lad. He's an only son, 
and his mother is a widow woman who loves him with all 
her might. 

William Makepeace Thackeray, 1811-1864. 



392 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

200.— LAMENTATION FOB CELIN* 

At the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barred, 
At twilight, at the Vega-gate, there is a trampling heard ; 
There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow, 
And a weeping voice of women and a heavy sound of woe. 

"What tower is fallen? what star is set? what chief come 
these bewailing ? " 

" A tower is fallen ! A star is set ! Alas, alas for Celin ! " 

Three times they knock, three times they cry, and wide the 

doors they throw ; 
Dejectedly they enter and mournfully they go ! 
In gloomy lines they mustering stand beneath the hollow porch, 
Each horseman grasping in his hand a black and naming torch. 
Wet is each eye as they go by, and all around is wailing, 
For all have heard the misery — "Alas, alas for Celin!" 

Him yesterday a Moor did slay of Bencerraje's blood : 
'Twas at the solemn jousting ; around the nobles stood ; 
The nobles of the land were by, and ladies bright and fair 
Looked from their latticed windows, the haughty sight to share ; 
But now the nobles all lament, the ladies are bewailing, 
For he was Granada's darling knight — " Alas, alas for Celin !" 

Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two, 
With ashes on their turbans spread, most pitiful to view ; 
Behind him his four sisters, each wrapped in sable veil, 
Between the tambour's dismal strokes take up the doleful 

tale ; 
When stops the muffled drum, ye hear their brotherless be- 
wailing, 
And all the people, far and near, cry, " Alas, alas for Celin ! " 

Oh ! lovely lies he on his bier above the purple pall, 

The flower of all Granada's youth, the loveliest of them all; 

His dark, dark eye is closed, his rosy lip is pale, 

The crust of blood lies black and dim upon his burnished mail ; 

* Pronounce Say'lin. 



ON COMPETITIVE EXAMINATIONS. 393 

And evermore the hoarse tambour breaks in upon their wailing ; 
Its sound is like no earthly sound — " Alas, alas for Celin ! " 

The Moorish maid at her lattice stands, the Moor stands at 

his door ; 
One maid is wringing of her hands and one is weeping sore. 
Down to the dust men bow their heads, and ashes black they 

strew 
Upon their broidered garments of crimson, green and blue ; 
Before each gate the bier stands still, then bursts the loud 

bewailing, 
From door and lattice, high and low — " Alas, alas for Celin ! " 

An old, old woman cometh forth when she hears the people 

cry; - 
Her hair is white as silver, like horn her glazed eye ; 
'Twas she who nursed him at her breast, who nursed him 

long ago ; 
She knows not whom they all lament, but, ah ! she soon shall 

know ! 
With one loud shriek, she through doth break, when her ears 

receive their wailing — 
" Let me kiss my Celin ere I die ! Alas, alas for Celin !" 

John Gibson Lockhart. 



201.— ON COMPETITIVE EXAMINATIONS. 

Certain objections have been made to the system of com- 
petitive examinations. Some people say it leads to cramming. 
It often happens that when mankind seize upon a word they 
imagine that word to be an argument, and go about repeating 
it, thinking they have arrived at some great and irresistible 
conclusion. So when they pronounce the word "cramming" 
they think they have utterly discredited the system to which 
that word is by them applied. Some people seem to imagine 
that the human mind is like a bottle, and that when you have 
filled it with anything you pour it out again and it becomes 



394 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

as empty as it was before. That is not the nature of the 
human mind. 

The boy who has been crammed, to use the popular word, 
has, in point of fact, learned a great deal, and that learning 
has accomplished two objects. In the first place, the boy has 
exercised the faculties of his mind in being crammed ; and in 
the next place, there remains in his mind a great portion of the 
knowledge so acquired, and which probably forms the basis 
of future attainment in different branches of education. De- 
pend upon it that the boy who is crammed, if he is crammed 
successfully, not only may succeed in the examination for 
which he is preparing, but is from that time forward more in- 
tellectual, better informed and more disposed to push forward 
the knowledge which by that cramming he has acquired. 

It is also said that you are teaching young men a great 
variety of things which will be of no use to them in the career 
which they are destined to pursue, and that you are pandering 
to their vanity by making them believe they are wiser than 
they really are. These objections also are in my opinion ut- 
terly futile. As to vanity and conceit, those are most vain 
and conceited who know the least. The more a man knows, 
the more he acquires a conviction of the extent of that which he 
does not know. A man ought to know a great deal to acquire 
a knowledge of the immensity of his ignorance. If competi- 
tive examination is not liable to objection upon the score that 
it tends to raise undue notions of superiority on the part of 
those who go through it, so also it is a great mistake to 
imagine that a range of knowledge disqualifies a man for the 
particular career and profession to which he is destined. 

Nothing can be more proper than that a young man, having 
selected a particular profession, should devote the utmost vig- 
or of his mind to qualify himself for it by acquiring the 
knowledge which is necessary for distinction in that line 
of life ; but it would be a great mistake for him to confine 
himself to that study alone, and you may be sure that the 
more a young man knows of a great variety of subjects, and 
the more he exercises his faculties in acquiring a great range 



THE GERMAN RHINE. 395 

of knowledge, the better he will perform the duties of his par- 
ticular profession. That sort of general knowledge may be 
likened to the gymnastic exercises to which soldiers are ac- 
customed. It is not that it can be expected that these partic- 
ular movements would be of any use to them on the day of 
battle, but these gymnastic exercises render their muscles 
flexible, strengthen their limbs, invigorate their health, and 
make them better able to undergo fatigue and to adapt them- 
selves to all circumstances. 

So with a wide range of study : it sharpens the wits ; it 
infuses general knowledge into the mind ; it sets a young man 
thinking^; it strengthens the memory and stores it with facts, 
and in this way makes him a better and more able man in the 
particular profession which he is intending to pursue. 

Lord Palmerston. 

202. -THE GERMAN RHINE. 

They never shall subdue it, the German Rhine's free stream ! 
Though fierce as vultures to it they flock with hungry scream : 
While yet it calmly weareth its green and tranquil vest; 
While yet the wanderer heareth one oar upon its breast ! 

They never shall o'ercome it, our glorious German Rhine ! 
While yet our hearts name from it the fresh and generous wine : 
While proud its rocks are raising their iron brows of might ; 
While airy domes are gazing into its mirror bright. 

They never shall subdue it, the German Rhine, the free ! 
While youths and maidens woo it, pledge of their vows to be : 
While yet one fish below it sports gladsomely along, 
Or on its shores one poet can breathe a deathless song. 

They never shall subdue it, our German Rhine's free stream ! 
Though fierce as vultures to it they flock with hungry scream : 
No! they shall win it never, our German Rhine's free wave, 
Till it hath closed for ever o'er the last German's grave ! 

From the German of Becker. 




396 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



203.— THOUGHTS IN A GREAT LIBRARY. 

This is the library. What a world of wit is here packed up 
together ! I know not whether this sight doth more dismay or 
comfort me: it dismays me to think that here is so much that 

I cannot know; it com- 
forts me to think that this 
variety yields so good 
helps to know w T hat I 
should. There is no truer 
word than that of Solo- 
mon: "There is no end 
of making many books." 
This sight verifies it ; there 
is no end ; indeed, it were 
pity there should be. 
God hath given to man a busy soul, the agitation whereof 
cannot but through time and experience work out many hid- 
den truths ; to suppress these would be no other than injurious 
to mankind, whose minds, like unto so many candles, should be 
kindled by each other. The thoughts of our deliberation are 
the most accurate, and these we commit to paper. 

What a happiness is it that without the offense of necro- 
mancy I may here call up any of the ancient worthies of 
learning, whether human or divine, and confer with them of 
all my doubts ! — that I can at pleasure summon whole synods 
of reverend fathers and acute doctors, from all the coasts of 
the earth, to give their well-studied judgments on all points of 
questions which I propose ! Neither can I cast my eye casually 
upon any of these silent masters, but I must learn somewhat 

Blessed be God that hath set up so many clear lamps in his 
church ! Now none but the willfully blind can plead darkness ; 
and blessed be the memory of those his faithful servants that 
have left their blood, their spirits, their lives, in these precious 
papers, and have willingly wasted themselves into these en- 
during monuments to give light unto others ! 

Bishop Hall, 1574-1656. 



LAMENT OF THE ERRING ONE. 397 



204.— LAMENT OF THE ERRING ONE. 

How happy are they who can find in reflection 
No act that cries "shame 1 ' — no abhorred recollection! 
They whose thoughts shed the light of tranquillity round them 
To cheer and support when the cold world hath bound them 

In cankering chains ! 

But wretched is he whose career is in blindness, 
Who joins hands with hatred and battles with kindness ; 
Who, keenly alive to a fine sense of pleasure, 
Abandons the cup of delight for a measure 

Of poison most foul. 

And such have I been but too long, to my sorrow; 
I've done that to-day which I've wept for to-morrow ; 
Still loving the right, and the wrong still pursuing, 
Making vows to be wise, and yet madly renewing 

Old follies again. 

I have dreams — I have dreams — by these dull midnight embers, 
Of things which my soul with reluctance remembers ; 
Of dear household scenes, where, at morn, drooping-hearted, 
With eyes raining tears, in my boyhood I parted 

From one now no more. 

All empty his seat — it were vain to deplore him ; 

Yet I wish the deaf grave for an hour would restore him, 

Until, from the erring lips prized far too dearly, 

He heard his son's grief that he ever severely 

A fond bosom pained. 

The wish is opposed by the justice of Heaven : 
'Tis right man should suffer before he's forgiven ; 
And oh, never dagger cut keener or deeper 
Than useless regret o'er the poor silent sleeper 

We've injured and loved. 

I see through the lattice the stars dimly gleaming, 
Blest beacons of hope o'er a troubled sea beaming ; 

34 



398 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

I turn from their light to the Being who made them, 
And pray that the beauty in which he arrayed them 

May one day be mine. 

Thou know'st, O Unknown, whom to scan dare we never, — 
Who art that thou art— hast been still — shalt be ever, — 
Thou knowest that thy creature, now humbled before thee, 
With his weak human sense doth sincerely adore thee ; 

Then hear him — oh, hear ! 

Oh ! hear him, this hour, while the hues ,of his spirit 
Are undimmed by the stain all are born to inherit ; 
And grant that, unmoved by life's joy or life's sorrow, 
Man's smile or man's frown, he may act on the morrow 

The thoughts of to-night. 

I ask not for riches, for power I care not — 
To win them, as most mortals win them, I dare not ; 
And the fame which I covet, I'll never here know it : 
I may not deserve it — ye cannot bestow it, 

Blind brothers of clay ! 

But guide me, O God, in a course still improving, 
As this orb round the sun, in thy light always moving ; 
And let naught unholy arise to conceal thee 
From him who, whenever he ceases to feel thee, 

Contentment hath none. 

May my life-time glide on, as these night sands are going, 
To eternity's ocean, a quiet stream flowing ; 
O my soul, be thy waters still pure as they now are — 
Still blessed — lest they wander — O Lord, with thy power 

To turn them to thee. 

Then I'll grasp thy cold hand, mystic Death, as the hoary 
High priest of a temple with clouds on its glory ; 
And though in the portal the pilgrim may falter, 
He'll forward with joy when he thinks of the altar 

Bright burning within. 
William Kennedy. 



THE FUTURE OF AMERICA. 399 



205.— THE FUTURE OF AMERICA. 

Fellow-citizens, the hours of this day are rapidly flying, 
and this occasion* will soon be passed. Neither we nor our 
children can expect to behold its return. They are in the 
distant regions of futurity, they exist only in the all-creating 
power of God, — they who shall stand here a hundred years 
hence, to trace through us their descent from the Pilgrims, and 
to survey, as we have now surveyed, the progress of their 
country during the lapse of a century. 

We would anticipate their concurrence with us in our sen- 
timents of deep regard for our common ancestors. We would 
anticipate and partake the pleasure with which they will then 
recount the steps of New England's advancement. On the 
morning of that day, although it will not disturb us in our re- 
pose, the voice of acclamation and gratitude, commencing on 
the rock of Plymouth, shall be transmitted through millions 
of the sons of the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in the murmurs of 
the Pacific seas. 

We would leave for the consideration of those who shall 
then occupy our places, some proof that we hold the blessings 
transmitted from our fathers in just estimation ; some proof of 
our attachment to the cause of good government, and of civil 
and religious liberty ; some proof of a sincere and ardent desire 
to promote everything which may enlarge the understandings 
and improve the hearts of men. And when, from the long dis- 
tance of a hundred years, they shall look back upon us, they 
shall know at least that we possessed affections which, running 
backward and warming with gratitude for what our ancestors 
have done for our happiness, run forward also to our posterity, 
and meet them with cordial salutation ere yet they have ar- 
rived on the shore of being. 

Advance, then, ye future generations ! We would hail you 
as you rise in your long succession to fill the places which we 
now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence where we are 

*The centennial celebration of the landing of the Pilgrims at Ply- 
mouth, Massachusetts, December 22, 1820. 



400 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

passing, and soon shall have passed, our own human duration. 
We bid you welcome to this pleasant land of the fathers. We 
bid you welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields 
of New England. We greet your accession to the great in- 
heritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the 
blessings of good government and religious liberty. We wel- 
come you to the treasures of science and the delights of learn- 
ing. We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of domestic 
life — to the happiness of kindred, and parents, and children. 
We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational 
existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of 
everlasting truth. 

Daniel Webster (see p. 240). 



206.— LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 

Having restricted universal suffrage and the right of pub- 
lic meetings, you would now wage war against the liberty of 
the Press. In the crisis through which France is passing, it 
is asked, " Who is making all this trouble ? Whom must we 
punish ? " The alarm party in Europe say, " It is France I " 
In France they say, " It is Paris ! " In Paris they say, " It is 
the Press ! " The man of observation and reflection says, 
" The culprit is not the Press ; it is not Paris ; it is not France ; 
it is the human mind ! " 

Yes, it is the human mind which has made the nations what 
they are ; which from the beginning has scrutinized, examined, 
discussed., debated, doubted, contradicted, probed, affirmed and 
pursued without ceasing the solution of the problem eternally 
placed before the creature by the Creator. It is the human 
mind which, since history began, has transformed societies and 
governments according to a law progressively acceptable to the 
reason; which has been theocracy, aristocracy, monarchy, 
and which is to-day democracy. It is the human mind which 
has been Babylon, Tyre, Jerusalem, Athens, and which to-day 
is Paris ; which has been, turn by turn, and sometimes all at 



OUT, JOHN. 401 



once, error, illusion, schism, protestation, truth. It is the hu- 
man mind which is the great leader of the generations, and 
which, in short, has always marched toward the Just, the 
Beautiful and the True, enlightening multitudes, elevating 
life, raising more and more the head of the people toward the 
Right, and the head of the individual toward God. 

And now I address myself to the alarm party — not in this 
chamber merely, but wherever they may be, throughout 
Europe — and I say to them : Consider well what you would do ; 
reflect on the task that you have undertaken, and measure it 
well before you commence. Suppose you should succeed : 
when you have destroyed the Press, there will remain some- 
thing more to destroy — Paris ! When you have destroyed 
Paris, there will remain France. When you have destroyed 
France, there will remain the human mind. 

I repeat it, let this great European alarm party measure 
the immensity of the task which, in their heroism, they would 
attempt. Though they annihilate the Press to the last jour- 
nal, Paris to the last pavement, France to the last hamlet, they 
will have done nothing. There will remain yet for them to 
destroy something always paramount, above the generations, 
and, as it were, between man and his Maker ; something that 
has written all the books, invented all the arts, discovered all 
the worlds, founded all the civilizations ; something which will 
always grasp, under the form of revolutions, what is not 
yielded under the form of progress ; something which is itself 
unseizable as the light and unapproachable as the sun, and 
which calls itsglf the human mind. 

Victor Hugo (see p. 312). 



207.— OUT, JOHN! 

Out, John ! out, John ! what are you about, John ? 
If you don't say, "Out," at once, you make the fellow doubt, John ! 
Say I'm out, whoever calls, and hide my hat and cane, John ! 
Say you've not the least idea when I shall come again, John. 
Let the people leave their bills, but tell them not to call, John ; 
Say I'm Courting Miss Rupee, and mean to pay them all, John. 
34* 2 A 



402 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Bun, John ! run, John ! there's another dun, John ; 

If it's Prodger, bid him call to-morrow week at one, John ; 

If he says he saw me at the window as he knocked, John, 

Make a face, and shake your head, and tell him you are shocked, John ; 

Take your pocket-handkerchief, and put it to your eye, John ; 

Say your master's not the man to bid you tell a lie, John. 

Oh, John, go, John ! there's Noodle's knock, I know, John ; 
Tell him that all yesterday you sought him high and low, John. 
Tell him, just before he came you saw me mount the hill, John ; 
Say you think I'm only gone to pay his little bill, John ; 
Then, I think, you'd better add that if I miss to-day, John, 
You're sure I mean to call when next I pass his way, John. 

Hie, John ! fly, John ! I will tell you why, John — 
If there is not Grimshaw at the corner, let me die, John. 
He will hear of no excuse — I'm sure he'll search the house, John, 
Peeping into corners hardly fit to hold a mouse, John ; 
Beg he'll take a chair and wait — I know he won't refuse, John — ■ 
And I'll pop through the little door that opens on the mews, John. 
Thomas Haynes Bayly, 1797-1839. 



208— JUSTICE. 

In this God's world, with its wild-whirling eddies and mad 
foaming oceans, where men and nations perish as if without 
law, and judgment for an unjust thing is sternly delayed, dost 
thou think that there is therefore no justice ? It is what the 
fool hath said in his heart. It is what the wise in all times 
were wise because they denied and knew for ever not to be. I 
tell thee again there is nothing else but justice. One strong 
thing I find here below — the just thing, the true thing. 

My friend, if thou hadst all the artillery of Woolwich 
trundling at thy back in support of an unjust thing, and in- 
finite bonfires visibly waiting ahead of thee to blaze centuries 
long for thy victory on behalf of it, I would advise thee to 
call halt, to fling down thy baton, and say, " In God's name, 
No ! " Thy " success ! " Poor devil, what will thy success 
amount to ? If the thing is unjust thou hast not succeeded — 
no, not though bonfires blazed from north to south, and bells 



THE DRUM. 403 



rang, and editors wrote leading articles, and the just thing lay 
trampled out of sight, to all mortal eyes an abolished and an 
annihilated thing. 

Success ! In a few years thou wilt be dead and dark — all 
cold, eyeless, deaf; no blaze of bonfires, ding dong of bells, or 
leading articles visible or audible to thee again at all for ever ! 
What kind of success is that ? 

Thomas Carlyle (see pp. 47, 404). 



209.— THE DRUM. 

Yonder is a little drum, hanging on the wall ; 

Dusty wreaths and tattered flags round about it fall. 

A shepherd youth on Cheviot's hills watched the sheep whose skin 

A cunning workman wrought, and gave the little drum its din ; 

And happy was the shepherd-boy whilst tending of his fold, 

Nor thought he there was in the world a spot like Cheviot's wold. 

And so it was for many a day ; but change with time will come, 

And he (alas for him the day!) — he heard the little drum. 
" Follow," said the drummer-boy, " would you live in story ! 

For he who strikes a foeman down wins a wreath of glory." 
"Rub-a-dub ! and rub-a-dub /" the drummer beats away — 

The shepherd lets his bleating flock on Cheviot wildly stray. 

On Egypt's arid wastes of sand the shepherd now is lying ; 
Around him many a parching tongue for " water" faintly crying. 
Oh that he were on Cheviot's hills, with velvet verdure spread, 
Or lying 'mid the blooming heath where oft he made his bed ; 
Or could he drink of those sweet rills that trickle to its vales, 
Or breathe once more the balminess of Cheviot's mountain gales. 

At length upon his wearied eyes the mists of slumber come, 
And he is in his home again, till wakened by the drum. 
" To arms ! to arms ! " his leader cries ; " the foe — the foe is nigh ! " 
Guns loudly roar, steel clanks on steel, and thousands fall to die. 
The shepherd's blood makes red the sand : "0 water — give me some ! 
My voice might meet a friendly ear but for that little drum !" 

'Mid moaning men and dying men, the drummer kept his way, 
And many a one by " glory " lured abhorred the drum that day. 



104 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



" Rub-a-dub ! and rub-a-dub ! " the drummer beat aloud— 
The shepherd died ; and, ere the morn, the hot sand was his shroud. 
And this is " glory » ? Yes ; and still will man the tempter follow, 
Nor learn that glory, like its dram, is but a sound, and hollow. 

Douglas Jerrold, 1803-1857. 



210.— HONOR TO LABOR. 

Two men I honor, 
and no third. First, 
the toil-worn crafts- 
man that with earth- 
made implements la- 
boriously conquers the 
earth and makes her 
man's. Venerable to 
me is the hand, hard 
and coarse, wherein 
notwithstanding lies a 
cunning virtue, inde- 
1| feasibly royal, as of 
this planet. Vener- 
able, too, is the rug- 
ged face all weather- 
tanned, besoiled with his rude intelligence, for it is the face of 
a man living man-like. Oh, but the more venerable for thy 
rudeness, and even because we must pity as well as love thee ! 
Hardly entreated brother, for us was thy back so bent, for us 
were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed ; thou wert 
our conscript on whom the lot fell, and fighting our battles 
wert so marred. For in thee too lay a God-created form, but 
it was not to be unfolded ; encrusted must it stand with the 
thick adhesions and defacements of labor ; and thy body, like 
thy soul, was not to know freedom. Yet, toil on, toil on ; 
thou art in thy duty, be out of it who may ; thou toilest for 
the altogether indispensable daily bread. 

A second man I honor, and still more highly — him who is 
seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable — not dailv bread, 




HONOR TO LABOR. 405 

but the bread of life. Is not he too in his duty, endeavoring 
toward inward harmony, revealing this by act or by word, 
through all his outward endeavors, be they high or low? 
Highest of all when his outward and his inward endeavors are 
one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman 
only, but inspired thinker, who with heaven-made implement 
conquers heaven for us ! If the poor and humble toil that we 
have food, must not the high and glorious toil for him in re- 
turn that he may have light, guidance, freedom, immortality ? 
These two in all their degrees I honor ; all else is chaff and 
dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth. 

There is a perennial nobleness and even sacredness in work. 
Were he ever so benighted or forgetful of his high calling, 
there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly 
works ; in idleness alone there is perpetual despair. Consider 
how, even in the meanest sort of labor, the whole soul of man 
is composed into real harmony. He bends himself with free 
valor against his task ; and doubt, desire, sorrow, remorse, in- 
dignation, despair itself, shrink murmuring far off into their 
caves. The glow of labor in him is a purifying fire, wdierein 
all poison is burnt up ; and of smoke itself there is made a 
bright and blessed flame. 

Blessed is he who has found his work ; let him ask no other 
blessedness — he has a life purpose. Labor is life. From the 
heart of the worker rises the celestial force breathed into him 
by Almighty God, awakening him to all nobleness, to all 
knowledge. Hast thou valued patience, courage, openness to 
light or readiness to own thy mistakes ? In wrestling with the 
dim brute powers of fact thou wilt continually learn. For 
every noble work the possibilities are diffused through immen- 
sity; undiscoverable, except to faith. 

Man, son of heaven ! is there not in thine inmost heart a 
spirit of active method, giving thee no rest till thou unfold it ? 
Complain not. Look up, wearied brother. See thy fellow- 
workmen surviving through eternity, the sacred band of im- 
mortals ! 

Thomas Carlyle (see p. 47). 



406 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

211.— THE VENGEANCE OP MUDARA. 

To the chase goes Rodrigo, with hound and with hawk ; 
But what game he desires is revealed in his talk : 
" Oh, in vain have I slaughtered the infants of Lara ; 
There's an heir in his hall, there's the stripling Mudara ; 
There's the son of the renegade — spawn of Mahoun; 
If I meet with Mudara, my spear brings him down." 

While Rodrigo rides on in the heat of his wrath, 
A stripling armed cap-a-pie crosses his path : 
" Good-morrow, young esquire." " Good-morrow, old knight." 
" Will you ride with our party, and share our delight ? " 
"Speak your name, courteous stranger," the young man 

replied — 
" Speak your name and your lineage, ere with you I ride." 

" My name is Rodrigo," thus answered the knight; 

" Of the line of old Lara, though barred from my right ; 
For the kinsman of Salas proclaims for the heir 
Of our ancestor's castles and forestries fair, 
A bastard, a renegade's offspring — Mudara — 
Whom I'll send, if I can, to the infants of Lara." 

" I behold thee, disgrace to thy lineage, with joy 
I behold thee, thou murderer ! " answered the boy ; 

" The bastard you curse, you behold him in me ; 
But his brothers' avenger that bastard shall be : 
Draw ! for I am the renegade's offspring — Mudara— 
We shall see who inherits the life-blood of Lara ! " 

" I am armed for the forest chase, not for the fight ; 

Let me go for my shield and my sword," cries the knight. 
" Now the mercy you dealt to my brothers of old, — 

Be the hope of that mercy the comfort you hold ! 

Die, foeman to Sancha — die, traitor to Lara ! " 

As he spake, there was blood on the spear of Mudara. 

John Gibson Lockhart, 1794-1854. 



UNITY OF OUR COUNTRY. 407 



212.— UNITY OF OUR COUNTRY. 

Our country, with all its sectional diversity of views and feel- 
ings, is one. It is one in the rich, manly, vigorous, expressive 
language we speak, which is become the vernacular tongue, as it 
were, of parliamentary eloquence — the very oldest of constitu- 
tional freedom. It is one in the fame of our fathers, and in 
the historical reminiscences which belong to us as a nation. 
It is one in the political principles of republicanism ; one in 
the substantial basis of oar manners ; one in the ties of friend- 
ship, affinity and blood, binding us together, throughout the 
whole extent of the land, in the associations of trade, of emi- 
gration and of marriage ; one in that glorious constitution, the 
best inheritance transmitted to us by our fathers, the monu- 
ment of their wisdom and their virtue, under whose shelter we 
live and flourish as a people. 

To this great republic, union is peace, union is grandeur, 
union is power, union is honor, union is everything which a 
free-spirited and mighty nation should glory to possess. To 
us all, next to independence, next to liberty, next to honor, be 
we persuaded that a cordial and abiding confederacy of the 
American people is the greatest of earthly goods. 

Here, in the eyes of our countrymen and of the world, with 
the Muse of History before us to record our deeds and our 
words, let us, like Hannibal at the altar of his gods, swear 
eternal faithfulness to our country, eternal hatred to its fcfes ! 
Show we that we are wedded to the Union for weal or for 
woe, as the fondest lover would hug to his heart the bride 
bound to him in the first bright ardor of young possession. We 
have not purposed to embark in this venture only to sail on 
the smooth surface of a summer sea, with hope and pleasure 
to waft us joyously along, but with resolved spirits, ready to 
meet, like true men, whatever of danger may descend upon 
our voyage, and to stand up gallantly for the treasure of hon- 
or and faith intrusted to our charge. 

Rally we, then, to the stripes and stars as the symbol of glory 
to us, and the harbinger of liberty to all the nations of the 



408 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

world ! So long as a shred of that sacred standard remains to us, 
let us cling to it with such undying devotion as the Christian 
pilgrims of the Middle Age cherished for the last fragment of 
the Cross. Let us fly to its rescue when periled, whether by 
foreign or domestic assault, as they did to snatch the Holy 
Sepulchre from the desecration of the infidel ! 

Caleb Cushing. 

213.— THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. 
King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, 
And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court ; 
The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side, 
And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make 

his bride ; 
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, 
Valor and love and a king above, and the royal beasts below. 

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws ; 

They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with 

their paws ; 
With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled one on another, 
Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother ; 
The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air ; 
Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there ! " 

De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous lively dame, 
With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the 

same : 
She thought, " The count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be ; 
He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me ! 
King, ladies, lovers, all look on ; the chance is wondrous fine ! 
I'll drop my glove to prove his love ; great glory will be mine ! " 

She dropped her glove to prove his love : then looked on him and 

smiled ; 
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild ! 
The leap was quick ; return was quick ; he soon regained his place ; 
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face ! 
"Well done! " cried Francis, "bravely done! " and he rose from 

where he sat : 
" No love," quoth he, " but vanity sets love a task like that ! " 

Leigh Hunt, 1784-1859. 



OUR COMMON SCHOOLS. 



409 



214.— OUR COMMON SCHOOLS. 

Sir, it is our common schools which give the keys of know- 
ledge tc the mass of the people. Our common schools are im- 
portant in the same way as the common air, the common 
sunshine, the 
common rain, in- 
valuable for their 
commonness. 
They are the cor- 
ner-stone of that 
municipal organ- 
ization which is 
the characteris- 
tic feature of our 
social system; 
they are the foun- 
tain of that wide- 
spread intelli- 
gence which, like 
a moral life, per- 
vades the coun- 
try. 

From the humblest village school there may go forth a 
teacher who, like Newton, shall bind his temples with the stars 
of Orion's belt ; with Herschel, light up his cell with the 
beams of before undiscovered planets ; with Franklin, grasp 
the lightning. Columbus, fortified with a few sound geograph- 
ical principles, was, on the deck of his crazy caravel, more 
truly the monarch of Castile and Aragon than Ferdinand 
and Isabella, enthroned beneath the golden vaults of the con- 
quered Alhambra. And Robinson, with the simple training 
of a rural pastor in England, when he knelt on the shore of 
Delft Haven, and sent his little flock upon their gospel errant- 
ry beyond the world of waters, exercised an influence over 
the destinies of the civilized world which will last to the end 
of time. 

35 




EDWARD EVERETT. 



410 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Sir, it is a solemn, a tender and sacred duty, that of educa- 
tion. What, sir, feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger ! 
pamper his limbs, and starve his faculties ! Plant the earth, 
cover a thousand hills with your droves of cattle, pursue the 
fish to their hiding-places in the sea and spread out your 
wheat-fields across the plain, in order to supply the wants of 
that body which will soon be as cold and as senseless as the 
poorest clod, and let the pure spiritual essence within you, 
with all its glorious capacities for improvement, languish and 
pine! 

What ! build factories, turn in rivers upon the water-wheels, 
unchain the imprisoned spirits of steam to weave a garment 
for the body, and let the soul remain unadorned and naked ! 
What ! send out your vessels to the farthest ocean, and make 
battle with the monsters of the deep, in order to obtain the 
means of lighting up your dwellings and work-shops, and pro- 
longing the hours of labor for the meat that perisheth, and 
permit that vital spark which God has kindled, which he has 
entrusted to our care, to be fanned into a bright and heavenly 
flame — permit it, I say, to languish and go out ! 

What considerate man can enter a school, and not reflect 
with awe that it is a seminary where immortal minds are 
training for eternity ? What parent but is, at times, weighed 
down with the thought that there must be laid the foundations 
of a building which will stand when not merely temple and 
palace, but the perpetual hills and adamantine rocks on which 
they rest, have melted away ; that a light may there be kin- 
dled which will shine not merely when every artificial beam 
is extinguished, but when the affrighted sun has fled away 
from the heavens ! I can add nothing, sir, to this considera- 
tion. I will only say, in conclusion, Education, when we feed 
that lamp, we perform the highest social duty ! If we quench 
it, I know not where — humanly speaking — for time or for 
eternity, — 

" I know not where is that Promethean heat 
That can its light relume ! " 

Edward Everett (see p. 351). 



THE SENSITIVE AUTHOR. 411 

215.— FAITH. 

Ye who think the truth ye sow 
Lost beneath the winter snow, 
Doubt not, Time's unerring law 
Yet shall bring the genial thaw. 

God in nature ye can trust : 

Is the God of mind less just ? 

Head we not the mighty thought 
Once by ancient sages taught ? 
Though it withered in the blight 
Of the mediaeval night, 

Now the harvest we behold ; 

See ! it bears a thousand fold. 

Workers on the barren soil, 
Yours may seem a thankless toil ; 
Sick at heart with hope deferred, 
Listen to the cheering word : 

Now the faithful sower grieves ; 

Soon he'll bind his golden sheaves. 

If great Wisdom have decreed 
Man may labor, yet the seed 
Never in this life shall grow, 
Shall the sower cease to sow ? 

The fairest fruit may yet be born 

On the resurrection morn ! 



216— THE SENSITIVE AUTHOR. 
Characters. — Dangle, Sneer, Sir Fretful Plagiary. 
Dan. Ah, my dear friend ! We were just speaking of your 
tragedy. Admirable, Sir Fretful, admirable ! 

Sneer. You never did anything beyond it, Sir Fretful — 
never in your life. 



412 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Sir F. Sincerely, then, you do like the piece ? 

Sneer. Wonderfully! 

Sir F. But come, now, there must be something that you 
think might be mended, hey ? Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck 
you? 

Dan. Why, faith, it is but an ungracious thing, for the most 
part, to — 

Sir F. With most authors it is just so indeed ; they are in 
general strangely tenacious ! But, for my part, I am never 
so well pleased as when a judicious critic points out any de- 
fect in me ; for what is the purpose of showing a work to a 
friend if you don't mean to profit by his opinion ? 

Sneer. Very true. Why, then, though I seriously admire 
the piece upon the whole, yet there is one small objection, 
which, if you'll give me leave, I'll mention. 

Sir F. Sir, you can't oblige me more. 

Sneer. I think it wants incident. 

Sir F. You surprise me ! — wants incident ? 

Sneer. Yes ; I own I think the incidents are too few. 

Sir F. Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no person for whose 
judgment I have a more implicit deference. But I protest to 
you, Mr. Sneer, I am only apprehensive that the incidents are 
too crowded. My dear Dangle, how does it strike you ? 

Dan. Really, I can't agree with my friend Sneer. I think 
the plot quite sufficient, and the first four acts by many de- 
grees the best I ever read or saw in my life. If I might ven- 
ture to suggest anything, it is that the interest rather falls off 
in the fifth. 

Sir F. Rises, I believe you mean, sir? 

Dan. No ; I don't, upon my word. 

Sir F. Yes, yes, you do, upon my word — it certainly don't 
fall off, I assure you. No, no, it don't fall off. 

Dan. Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid 
as easily of the newspaper criticisms as you do of ours. 

Sir F. The newspapers ! Sir, they are the most villainous, 
licentious, abominable, infernal — Not that I ever read them ! 
No ! I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper. 



THE SENSITIVE AUTHOR. 413 

Dan. You are quite right, for it certainly must hurt an 
author of delicate feelings to see the liberties they take. 

Sir F. No ! quite the contrary ; their abuse is, in fact, the 
best panegyric ; I like it of all things. An author's reputa- 
tion is only in danger from their support. 

Sneer. Why, that's true ; and that attack now on you the 
other day — 

Sir F. What ? where ? 

Dan. Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday ; it was com- 
pletely ill-natured, to be sure. 

Sir F. Oh, so much the better ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! I wouldn't 
have it otherwise. 

Dan. Certainly, it's only to be laughed at ; for — 

Sir F. You don't happen to recollect what the fellow said, 
do you ? 

Sneer. Pray, Dangle — Sir Fretful seems a little anxious — 

Sir F. Oh, no ! anxious — not I, not the least. I — But one 
may as well hear, you know. 

Dan. Sneer, do you recollect? [Aside to Sneer.'] Make 
out something. 

Sneer. [Aside to Dangle.] I will. [Aloud.] Yes, sir, I 
remember perfectly. 

Sir F. Well, and pray now — not that it signifies — what 
might the gentleman say ? 

Sneer. Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the 
slightest invention or original genius whatever, though you 
are the greatest traducer of all other authors living. 

Sir F. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Very good ! 

Sneer. That as to comedy you have not one idea of your 
own, he believes, even in your commonplace book, where stray 
jokes and pilfered witticisms are kept with as much method 
as the ledger of the Lost and Stolen Office. 

Sir F. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Very pleasant ! 

Sneer. Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the 
skill even to steal with taste, but that you glean from the 
refuse of obscure volumes, where more judicious plagiarists 
have been before you ; so that the body of your work is a com- 

35* 



414 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

position of dregs and sediments — like a bad tavern's worst 
wine. 

Sir F. Ha ! ha ! 

Sneer. In your more serious efforts, he says your bombast 
would be less intolerable if the thoughts were ever suited to 
the expression ; but the homeliness of the sentiment stares 
through the fantastic incumbrance of its fine language like a 
clown in one of the new uniforms ! 

Sir F. Ha! ha! 

Sneer. That your occasional tropes and flowers suit the gen- 
eral coarseness of your style as tambour sprigs would a ground 
of linsey-wolsey ; while your imitations of Shakspeare resem- 
ble the mimicry of Falstaff's page, and are about as near the 
standard of the original. 

SirF. Ha! 

Sneer. In short, that even the finest passages you steal are 
of no service to you ; for the poverty of your own language 
prevents their assimilating, so that they lie on the surface like 
lumps of marl on a barren moor, encumbering what it is not 
in their power to fertilize. 

Sir F. [After great agitation.~\ Now, another person would 
be vexed at this. 

Sneer. Oh! but I wouldn't have told you, only to divert 
you. 

Sir F. I know it — I am diverted. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — not the 
least invention ! Ha! ha! ha! very good! very good! 

Sneer. Yes — no genius ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Dan. A severe rogue! ha! ha! ha! But you are quite 
right, Sir Fretful, never to read such nonsense. You are quite 
right. 

Sir F. To be sure ; for if there is anything to one's praise 
it is a foolish vanity to be gratified at it, and if it is abuse, 
why, one is always sure to hear of it from one good-natured 
friend or another ! 

R. B. Sheridan (see p. 319). 



FATHERLAND SONG. 



415 



217.— FATHERLAND SONG. 




RON God gave us, so that man 

should never be a slave ; 
Therefore the sabre, sword and 
spear to man's right hand He 
gave. 
Therefore He gave him fiery mood, 
fierce speech and free-born 
breath, 
That he might fearlessly the feud 
maintain through blood and 
death. 

And now God's gracious gift alway 

we'll faithfully retain, 
And never a fellow-creature slay a 

tyrant's pay to gain ! 

By stroke of brand the wretch shall 

fall who fighteth for sin and 

shame, 

And never inherit the German land 

with the men of German name. 



O Germany ! bright fatherland ! O German love so true! 
Thou sacred land, thou beauteous land, we swear to thee anew ! 
Outlawed, each knave and coward shall the crow and raven feed, 
But we will to the battle all, to serve our country's need. 

Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can, to bright and flaming life ! 
Now, all ye Germans, man for man, forth to the holy strife ! 
Your hands lift upward to the sky, let every heart upsoar, 
And, man for man, let each one cry, Our slavery is o'er ! 

Let sound, let sound, whatever can — trumpet, and fife, and drum • 
This day our sabres, man for man, to stain with use we come ; 
Hangman and tyrant to repel ! Oh, glorious day of ire, 
That to all Germans soundeth good — day of our great desire ! 

Let wave, let wave, whatever can — banner and ensign wave ! 
Here do we purpose, man for man, to court a hero's grave. 
Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily, your colors wave on high ! 
We'll gain us freedom's victory, or freedom's death we'll die. 

From the German of E. M. Arndt, 1769-1859. 



416 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

218.— THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOOLMASTER. 

Sir, there is nothing which the adversaries of improvement 
are more wont to make themselves merry with than what is 
termed the "march of intellect;" and here I will confess that I 
think, as far as the phrase goes, they are in the right. It is a 
very absurd, because a very incorrect, expression. It is little 
calculated to describe the operation in question. It does not 
picture an image at all resembling the proceeding of the true 
friends of mankind. It much more resembles the progress of 
the enemy to all improvement. The conqueror moves in a 
march. He stalks onw T ard with the " pride, pomp and circum- 
stance of w 7 ar ; " banners flying, shouts rending the air, guns 
thundering, and martial music pealing to drown the shrieks of 
the wounded and the lamentations for the slain. 

Not thus the schoolmaster in nis peaceful vocation. He 
meditates and purposes in secret the plans which are to bless 
mankind ; he slowly gathers round him those who are to fur- 
ther their execution ; he quietly though firmly advances in 
his humble path, laboring steadily but calmly, till he has 
opened to the light all the recesses of ignorance, and torn up 
by the roots all the weeds of vice. His is a progress not to be 
compared with anything like a march, but it leads to a far 
more brilliant triumph and to laurels more imperishable than 
the destroyer of his species, the scourge of the world, ever 
won. 

Such men — men deserving the glorious title of Teachers of 
Mankind — I have found laboring conscientiously, though, per- 
haps, obscurely, in their blessed vocation, wherever I have 
gone. I have found them, and shared their fellowship, among 
the daring, the ambitious, the ardent, the indomitably active 
French ; I have found them among the persevering, resolute, 
industrious Swiss ; I have found them among the laborious, 
the warm-hearted, the enthusiastic Germans ; I have found 
them among the high-minded but enslaved Italians ; and in 
our own country, God be thauked, their numbers everywhere 
abound, and are every day increasing. 



RANK AND WEALTH. 417 

Their calling is high and holy ; their fame is the property 
of nations ; their renown will fill the earth in after ages, in 
proportion as it sounds not far off in their own times. Each 
one of these great teachers of the world, possessing his soul in 
peace, performs his appointed course, awaits in patience the 
fulfillment of the promises, and resting from his labors, be- 
queaths his memory to the generation whom his works have 
blessed, and sleeps under the humble but not unglorious epi- 
taph, commemorating " one in whom mankind lost a friend, 
and no man got rid of an enemy." 

Lord Brougham (see p. 297). 

219.— RANK AND WEALTH. 

Is there, for honest poverty, that hangs his head, and a' that ? * 
The coward slave, we pass him by, we dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, our 'toil's obscure, and a' that, 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, the man's the gowd for a' that. 

What though on hamely fare we dine, wear hoddin gray, and a' 

that? 
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, a man's a man for a' 

that! 
For a' that, and a' that, their tinsel show, and a' that, 
The honest man, though e'er sae poor, is king o' men for a' that ! 

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, who struts, and stares, and a' that ; 
Though hundreds worship at his word, he's but a coof for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, his riband, star, and a' that, 
The man o' independent mind, he looks and laughs at a' that ! 

A king can mak' a belted knight, a marquis, duke, and a' that; 
But an honest man's aboon his might, guid faith he mauna fa' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, their dignities and a' that, 
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth are higher ranks than a' that ! 

Then let us pray that come it may, as come it will, for a' that, 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, may bear the gree, and a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, it's comin' yet, for a' that ! 
That man to man, the world o'er, shall brothers be for a' that ! 

Kobert Burns, 1758-1796. 

* " Is there for honest poverty," etc., is an elliptica' expression for " Is 
there any one that hangs his head for honest poverty?" 

2B 



418 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



220.— ON BEING- CALLED AN ARISTOCRAT. 

You have called me an aristocrat. Listen to my reply. My 
only aristocracy is the superiority which industry, frugality, 
perseverance and intelligence will always assure to every man 
in a free state of society. I belong only to those privileged 
classes to which you may all belong in your turn. The priv- 
ileges are not created for us, but created by us. Our wealth 
is our own ; we have made it. Our ease is our own ; we have 
gained it by the sweat of our brows, or by the labor of our 
minds. 

Our position in society is not conferred upon us, but pur- 
chased by ourselves — with our own intellect, application, zeal, 
patience and industry. If you remain inferior to us, it is be- 
cause you have not the intellect or the industry, the zeal or 
the sobriety, the patience or the application, necessary to your 
advancement. This is not our fault, but your own. 

You wish to become rich, as some men do to become wise ; 
but there is no royal road to wealth any more than there is to 
knowledge. You sigh for the ease and repose of wealth, but 
you are not willing to do that which is necessary to procure 
them. The husbandman who will not till his ground shall 
reap nothing but thistles and briers. 

You think that there must be something wrong in human 
society if you do not become wealthy aud powerful ; but what 
right have you to expect — you idlers and drones in the hive — 
you shall always be fed on the honey and sweets of life ? What 
right have you, who do nothing for yourselves, your families, 
your country or your kind, to imagine that you will be selected 
for public favor, confidence and reward ? 

I am not an aristocrat in that sense of the term in which it 
may be applied in absolute governments, or under imperial 
rule ; but if by an aristocrat you mean a man who has earned 
his promotion by his labor, his honors by his toils, and his 
wealth by his industry, oh, then indeed I am an aristocrat ; 
and, please God, I will always remain so. 

The distinctions in human society displease you, because you 



P ATRIA VICTRIX. 419 

have not the talent or the industry to amend your own posi- 
tion. You are too idle to labor, and too proud to beg ; but I 
will endeavor to take care that you shall not rob me. I throw 
back, then, with indignation and resentment, the charge which 
is made. I belong to the middling classes of society. I have 
been selected by my fellow-citizens as one of their representa- 
tives ; and, by the blessing of Heaven, I will represent them. 

Casimir Perier. 

221.— P ATRIA VICTRIX. 

Not in anger, not in pride, 
The strain should close that consecrates our brave. 

Lift the heart and lift the head ! 
Lofty be its mood and grave. 

Boom, cannon, boom to all the winds and waves ! 
Clash out, glad bells, from every rocking steeple ! 

Banners, advance with triumph, bend your staves ! 

And from every mountain peak 

Let beacon-fire to answering beacon speak, 

Katahdin tell Monadnock, Whiteface he, 

And so leap on in light from sea to sea, 

Till the glad news be sent 

Across a kindling continent, 

Making earth feel more firm and air breathe braver ; 
" Be proud ! for she is saved, and all have helped to save 
her! 

She that lifts up the manhood of the poor, 

She of the open soul and open door, 
With room about her hearth for all mankind ! 

The fire is dreadful in her eyes no more ; 
From her bold front the helm she doth unbind, 

Sends all her handmaid armies back to spin, 
And bids her navies, that so lately hurled 

Their crashing battle, hold their thunders in, 
Swimming like birds of calm along the unharmful shore. 
No challenge sends she to the elder world, 



420 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

That looked askance and hated ; a light scorn 
Plays o'er her mouth, as round her mighty knees 

She calls her children back, and waits the morn 
Of nobler day, enthroned between her subject seas." 

Bow down, dear land, for thou hast found release ! 
Thy God, in these distempered days, 
Hath taught thee the sure wisdom of his ways, 
And through thy enemies hath wrought thy peace ! 
Bow down in prayer and praise ! 

No poorest in thy borders but may now 

Lift to the juster skies a man's enfranchised brow. 

O Beautiful ! my country ! ours once more ! 
Smoothing thy gold of war-disheveled hair 

O'er such sweet brows as never others wore, 

And letting thy set lips, 

Freed from wrath's pale eclipse, 
The rosy edges of their smile lay bare, 

What word divine of lover or of poet 

Could tell our love and make thee know it, 
Among the nations bright beyond compare ? 

What were our lives without thee ? 

What all our lives to save thee ? 

We reck not what we gave thee ; 

We will not dare to doubt thee, 
But ask whatever else, and we will dare ! 

James Russell Lowell. 



222.— CORONACH. 

He is gone to the mountain, he is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, when our need was the sorest 
The fount, reappearing, from the rain-drops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering, to Duncan no morrow ! 
The hand of the reaper takes the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the' weeper wails manhood in glory ; 



CALDWELL OF SPRINGFIELD. 



421 



The autumn winds rushing waft the leaves that are serest, 
But our flower was in flushing when blighting was nearest. 
Fleet foot on the correi, sage counsel in cumber,* 
Red hand in the foray, how T sound is thy slumber ! — 
Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble en the fountain, thou art gone, and for ever ! 

Sir Walter Scott. 




BRET HAETE. 

223.— CALDWELL OF SPRINGFIELD. 



Here's the spot. Look around you. Above, on the height, 
Lay the Hessians encamped. By that church on the right 
Stood the gaunt Jersey farmers. And here ran a wall — 
You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball. 
Nothing more. Grasses spring, waters run, flowers blow, 
Pretty much as they did ninety-three years ago. 

* A coronach is a wild expression of lamentation among the Scotch 
Highlanders. The correi is the hollow side of the hill where game usu- 
ally lies. By cumber the poet means perplexiti/, distress. 
36 



422 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Nothing more, did I say ? Stay, one moment ; you've heard 

Of Caldwell, the parson, who once preached the word 

Down at Springfield ? What ! no ? Come — that's bad ; why 

he had 
All the Jerseys aflame ! And they gave him the name 
Of the " rebel high priest." He stuck in tfieir gorge, 
For he loved the Lord God, and he hated King George ! 

He had cause, you might say ! When the Hessians that day 
Marched up with Knyphausen, they stopped on their way 
At the " Farms," where his wife, with a child in her arms, 
Sat alone in the house. How it happened, none knew 
But God, and that one of the hireling crew 
Who fired the shot. Enough ! there she lay, 
And Caldwell, the chaplain, her husband, away ! 

Did he preach — did he pray ? Think of him, as you stand 
By the old church, to-day ; think of him, and that band 
Of militant plowboys ! See the smoke and the heat 
Of that reckless advance — of that straggling retreat! 
Keep the ghost of that wife, foully slain, in your view — 
And what could you, what should you, what would you do ? 

Why, just what he did ! They were left in the lurch 
For the want of more wadding. He ran to the church, 
Broke the door, stripped the pews, and dashed out in the road 
With his arms full of hymn-books, and threw down his load 
At their feet ! Then, above all the shouting and shots, 
Rang his voice — " Put Watts into 'em, boys ! give 'em Watts !" 

And they did. That is all. Grasses spring, flowers blow, 
Pretty much as they did ninety-three years ago. 
You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball, 
But not always a hero like this — and that's all. 

Bret Harte. 



THE INDEPENDENT VOTERS. 423 



224.— THE INDEPENDENT VOTERS. 

Samuel Wetter. Election day, this, sir. Great doings down 
at the Town Arms. 

Mr. Pickwick. All alive, I suppose, eh, Sam ? 

Sam. Reg'lar game, sir. Our people's a-collectin' and 
hollerin' themselves hoarse already. Some are roarin' out 
" Slunkey for ever ! " Then comes the cry, " Firkin for ever ! 
Firkin's the man ! " Then another roarin', like that of a whole 
menagerie when the elephant has rung the bell for the cold 
meat. 

Mr. P. Ah ! Each man seems devoted to his party, eh, Sam? 

Sam. Never see such dewotion in my life, sir. 

Mr. P. Energetic, eh? 

Sam. Uncommon. I never see men eat and drink so much 
afore. I wonder they a'n't afeerd o' bustin\ 

Mr. P. That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here. 

Sam. Werry likely. 

Mr. P. Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem. 

Sam. Werry fresh ; me and the two waiters at the Peacock 
has been a-pumpin' over the independent woters as supped 
there last night. 

Mr. P. Pumping over independent voters ! What do you 
mean, Sam? 

Sam. I mean that every man slept where he fell down ; we 
dragged 'em out one by one this mornin' and put 'em under 
the pump, and they're in reg'lar fine order now. Shillin' a 
head the committee paid for that 'ere job. 

Mr. P. Can such things be ? Can such things be ? 

Sam. Lord bless your heart, sir, why, where were you half 
baptized? That's nothin' — that ain't. 

Mr. P. Nothing ! To treat independent voters in that fash- 
ion is nothing ! 

Sam. Nothin' at all, sir. Why, the night afore the last day 
of the last election here, the opposite party bribed the bar-maid 
at the Town Arms to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen 
unpolled electors as was a-stoppin' in the house. 



424 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

Mr. P. What do you mean by hocusing brandy and water ? 

Sam. Puttin' laudanum in it, sir. Bless'd if she didn't send 
'em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. 
They took one man up to the booth in a truck, fast asleep, by 
way of experiment, but it was no go — the judges wouldn't take 
his vote ; so he was brought back and put to bed again. 

Mr. P. Strange practices, these ! Strange indeed in a civil- 
ized, enlightened country! 

Sam. Not half so strange, sir, as a miraculous circumstance 
as happened to my own father at an election time in this 
werry place, sir. 

Mr. P. What was that, Sam ? 

Sam. Why, sir, he drove a coach down here once. 'Lection 
time came on, and he was engaged by our party to briug down 
woters from London. Night afore he was going to drive up, 
committee on t'other side send for him quietly, and away he 
goes with the messenger, who shows him in. Large room — lots 
of gen'l'm'n— heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. 
" Ah, Mr. Weller," says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, "glad to see 
you, sir ; how are you ? " " Werry well, thank'ee, sir," says 
my father ; " I hope you're pretty middlin', " says he. " Pretty 
well, thank'ee, sir," says the gen'l'm'n ; " sit down, Mr. Weller." 

Mr. P. Well, what did they want of him, Sam? No bribery, 
no corruption, I hope ? 

Sam. My father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n looks 
werry hard at each other. "You don't remember me?" says 
the gen'l'm'n. " Can't say I do," says my father. " Oh, I know 
you" says the gen'l'm'n ; " know'dyou ven you was a boy," says 
he. " Well, I don't remember you," says my father. " That's 
werry odd," says the gen'l'm'n. " Werry," says my father. 
" You must have a bad memory, Mr. Weller," says the gen'- 
l'm'n. " Well, it is a werry bad 'un," says my father. " I 
thought so," says the gen'l'm'n. 

Mr. P. Come to the point, Sam. What was his drift ? 

Sam.. Then they pours him out a glass o' wine, and gam- 
mons him about his drivin', and gets him into a reg'lar good 
humor, and at last shoves a twenty-pound note into his hand. 



THE INDEPENDENT VOTERS. 425 

Mr. P. A twenty-pound note ! What for ? 

Sam. " It's a werry bad road between this and London," says 
the gen'l'ra'n. " Here and there it is a werry heavy road," says 
my father. " Specially near the canal, I think," says the genT- 
m'n. " Nasty bit, that 'ere," says my father. " Well, Mr. 
Weller," says the gen'l'm'n, " you're a werry good whip, and 
can do what you like with your horses, we know. We're all 
werry fond of you, Mr. Weller ; so in case you should have a 
haccident when you're a bringin' these here woters down, and 
should tip 'em over into the canal without hurtin' em, this is 
for yourself," says he. 

Mr. P. But, Sam, Sam, that looks like a direct attempt to 
bribe your father to upset the coach. Did he denounce 
them ? 

Sam. " Gen'l'm'n, you're werry kind," says my father ; " and 
I'll drink your health in another glass of wine," says he ; vich 
he did, and then buttons up the money, and bows himself 
out. 

Mr. P. Well, Sam, what came of it ? 

Sam. You wouldn't believe, sir, that on the werry day as he 
came down with them woters his coach was upset on that 'ere 
werry spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was turned into the canal. 

Mr. P. But they got out again, Sam ? They all got out 
again, safe and sound, eh ? 

Sam. Why, sir, I rather think that one old gen'l'm'n w r as 
missin'. I know his hat was found, but I ain't quite certain 
whether his head was in it or not. 

Mr. P. Is it possible ? 

Sam. But w T hat I look at, sir, is the hextraordinary and 
w T onderful coincidence that arter what that gen'l'm'n said my 
father's coach should be upset, and upset in that werry place, 
and on that werry day ! 

Mr. P. Yes, the coincidence was extraordinary, very, seeing 
it was all an accident, Sam. 

Sam. Ay, sir, as you say — seeing 'twas all a haccident ! 
Dramatized from Charles Dickens. 

30* 



426 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 




225.— THE GLADIATOR. 

I see before me the gladiator lie : 

He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow 
Consents to death, but conquers agony; 

And his drooped head sinks gradually low ; 

And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow 
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, 

Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now 
The arena swims around him — he is gone, 
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch 
who won. 



He heard it, but he heeded not ; his eyes 
Were with his heart, and that was far away ; 

He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize, 
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, 
There were his young barbarians all at play, 

There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, 
Butchered to make a Roman holiday I 

All this rushed with his blood. Shall he expire, 

And unavenged ? Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! 

Lord Byron (see p. 176). 



THE SWISS AT FRASTENZ. 427 

226.— THE QUALITY OF MERCY. 

The quality of mercy is not strained ; 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed : 

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 

"lis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 

The throned monarch better than his crown. 

His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings : 

But mercy is above his sceptered sway, 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God himself: 

And earthly power doth then show likest God's 

When mercy seasons justice. 

Shakspeare. 



227.— THE SWISS AT FRASTENZ. 

Where the swift Keuss foams and dashes through Uri's rocky glen, 

Bearing aloft a banner, behold a crowd of men ; 

A black ox on a field of gold — lo ! Uri's arms appear ! 

No yoke has ever pressed the neck of that unbroken steer. 

There's a wooden house in the valley, on a little plot of green, 
Where carved about the cornice in a rude scroll is seen, — 
"I'm a free-born son of Switzerland, and Harry Wohlleb* hight, 
This little house and its tenant stand only in God's might." 

Before the threshold sits a man of venerable years, 
Like a stripped field in autumn his hoary head appears ; 
A blooming little daughter sits smiling by his side, 
As a rosebud decks a ruin with its beauty and its pride. 

The earnest crowd approaching, the leader steps before, 
And proffers the patriot standard to the veteran at the door: 
The old man takes the banner, and he holds the strong shaft high, 
While words in winged cadence from his lips like eagles fly ; 

* Pronounced vole'eb. 



428 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

"Oh, keep, good Lord, thy people and thy servant in thy sight, 
Who boldly raise their weapons for freedom and the right ; 
If thou will' st it, then as firmly as a tower upon a rock 
This arm shall bear the standard thro' the battle's stormy shock. 

" Out now, out of thy scabbard ! be true to me, my brand — 
True as the good scythe proves itself in the skillful reaper's hand ; 
Twice only thine appointed days of labor thou hast mown, 
Yet as Morat and Grandson the well-reaped fields are known ! 

" Holy banner, float for ever round the forehead of the free ! 
And from our flashing glaciers wave in sign of Victory ! 
Oh, awake in all our valleys — Freedom, heavenly maid, arise, 
Thou hast made thy couch already where the Alps blend with the 
skies !" 

So speaks the white-hair'd Wohlleb ; his heart feels youthful now, 
And the flutter of the banner cools the fever of his brow ; 
Thereon how sweetly bloweth the gentle evening air ! 
Or does Tell's shade approving lay his hand in blessing there? 

On the field in front of Frastenz, drawn up in battle array, 
Stretched spear on spear in a crescent, the German army lay ; 
Behind a wall of bucklers stood bosoms steeled with pride, 
And a stiff wood of lances that all assaults defied. 

Oh, why, ye men of Switzerland, from your Alpine summits sally, 
And armed with clubs and axes descend into the valley ? 
"The wood just grown at Frastenz with our axes we would fell, 
To build homesteads from its branches where Liberty may dwell." 

The Swiss on the German lances rush with impetuous shock ; 

It is spear on spear in all quarters — they are dashed like waves from 

a rock. 
His teeth then gnashed the Switzer, and the mocking German cried, 
" See how the snout of the greyhound is pierced by the hedgehog's hide !" 

Like a song of resurrection, then sounded from the ranks : 
"Illustrious shade, Von Winkelried ! to thee I render thanks. 
Thou beckonest. I obey thee ! Up, Swiss, and follow me !" 
Thus the voice of Henry Wohlleb from the ranks rang loud and free. 

From its shaft he tore the banner, and twined it round his breast, 
And hot with the lust of death on the serried lances pressed; 



THE END OF THE PLAY. 429 

His red eyes from their sockets like gleaming torches glare, 
And in front, in place of the banner, wave the locks of his snow-white 
hair ! 

The spears of six knights together — in his hand he seizes all — 
And thereon thrusts his bosom — there's a breach in the lances' wall. 
With vengeance fired, the Switzers storm the battle's perilous ridge, 
And the corpse of Henry Wohlleb to their vengeance is the bridge. 

Anastasius Grun (translated by John O. Sahgent). 



228.— OTHELLO'S FAREWELL. 

Oh, now for ever 
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
That make ambition virtue ! Oh, farewell ! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
The royal banner, and all quality, 
Pride, pomp and circumstance, of glorious war ! 
And oh, ye mortal engines, whose rude throats 
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit, 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! 

Shakspeare. 



229.— THE END OF THE PLAY. 

The play is done — the curtain drops, 

Slow falling to the prompter's bell ; 
A moment yet the actor stops, 

And looks around, to say farewell. 
It is an irksome word and task : 

And when he's laughed and said his say 
He shows, as he removes the mask, 

A face that's anything but gay. 



430 OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 

One word ere yet the evening ends — 

Let's close it with a parting rhyme, 
And pledge a hand to all young friends, 

As fits the merry Christmas-time ; 
, On life's wide scene you, too, have parts 

That fate ere long shall bid you play ; 
Good night ! — with honest gentle hearts 

A kindly greeting go alway ! 

Good night ! — I'd say, the griefs, the joys, 

Just hinted in this mimic page, 
The triumphs and defeats of boys, 

Are but repeated in our age; 
I'd say your woes were not less keen, 

Your hopes more vain, than those of men- 
Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen 

At forty-five played o'er again. 

I'd say we suffer and we strive 

Not less, nor more, as men than boys — 
With grizzled beards at forty-five 
As erst at twelve in corduroys ; 
And if, in time of sacred youth, 

We learned at home to love and pray, 
Pray Heaven that early love and truth 
May never wholly pass away. 

And in the world, as in the school, 

I'd say how fate may change and shift — 
The prize be sometimes with the fool, 

The race not always to the swift ; 
The strong may yield, the good may fall, 

The great man be a vulgar clown, 
The knave be lifted over all, 

The kind cast pitilessly down. 

Who knows the inscrutable design ? 
Blessed be He who took and gave ! 



THE END OF THE PLAY. 431 

Why should your mother, Charles, not mine, 

Be weeping at her darling's grave ? 
We bow to Heaven that willed it so, 
That darkly rules the fate of all, 
That sends the respite or the blow, 
That's free to give or to recall. 

This crowns his feast with wine and wit — 

Who brought him to that mirth and state ? 
His betters, see, below him sit, 

Or hunger hopeless at the gate ; 
Who bade the mud from Di'ves' wheel 

To spurn the rags of Lazarus ? 
Come, brother, in that dust we'll kneel, 

Confessing Heaven that ruled it thus. 

So each shall mourn, in life's advance, 

Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed — 
Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance, 

And longing passion unfulfilled ; 
Amen ! — whatever fate be sent, 

Pray God the heart may kindly glow, 
Although the head with cares be bent, 

And whitened with the winter snow. 

Come wealth or want, come good or ill, 

Let young and old accept their part, 
And bow before the awful will, 

And bear it with an honest heart; 
Who misses, or who wins, the prize, 

Go, lose or conquer as you can ; 
But if you fail, or if you rise, 

Be each, pray God, a gentleman. 

A gentleman, or old or young, 

(Bear kindly with my humble lays) ; 
The sacred chorus first was sung 

Upon the first of Christmas days ; 



432 



OXFORD'S SENIOR SPEAKER. 



The shepherds heard it overhead — 

The joyful angels raised it then : 
Glory to Heaven on high, it said, 

And peace on earth to gentle men. 

My song, save this, is little worth ; 

I lay the weary pen aside, 
And wish you health, and love, and mirth, 

As fits the solemn Christmas tide ; 
As fits the holy Christmas birth, 

Be this, good friends, our carol still — 
Be peace on earth, be peace on earth, 

To men of gentle will. 

Wm. M. Thackeray (see p. 390). 




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